


COSÌ CELESTE (HEAVENLY)

by DeanandCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Slow Build, Supernatural - AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanandCas/pseuds/DeanandCas
Summary: Castiel and Dean are inseparable friends as kids. But their decisions take them along very different paths.Dean lives in the US and Cas lives in Italy for some years now, pursuing his dream...Things are about to change when Dean decides to face his fears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Così Celeste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889690) by [DeanandCas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanandCas/pseuds/DeanandCas). 



> This work was inspired in the song 'Cosí Celeste', by italian singer Zucchero Fornacciari, 1995.  
> [Zucchero Così Celeste](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS1Se1Ewx3g=)
> 
> This story was originally written in Brazilian Portuguese.

 

**1990**

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the room, filtering through the lace curtains. On the couch, two long-time friends had tea and talked while their sons played on the rug.

The boys were trying to build as big a Lego tower as possible, using the limited materials they had.  They picked up the last block in Dean’s toy box. And it had been an arduous task, since they didn’t want to wake the baby sleeping in the crib beside the bed where the box was. If he awoke, it would be the end of the older boys’ playtime.

The freckled boy, whose fair hair was cut in a page style, balanced on tiptoe to put the last block. His companion, a boy with big blue eyes and light brown hair, held the building in place, being a little older and a few inches taller. He said it would be easier if he put the last block on the tower, but the youngest had strongly insisted that he had to finish the great engineering work - obviously it was his prerogative since he owned the toys.

Mary smiled at how the boys seemed to get along right away. Naomi was an old high school friend who had moved into the neighborhood again, after having lived in another state for some years. She had married and had two children. Now divorced, she returned to Lawrence and met Mary at the grocery store. They had hugged under the gaze of four curious boys. Mary's two boys were five and one year old, their names honoring her parents: Dean and Samuel. Naomi had Gabriel, eight and Castiel, six, both named after angels, idea of the boys' father.

They agreed to meet at Mary's house on Saturday afternoon. Naomi felt lonely and somehow half-beaten to return to her hometown with two children and no husband. _Even if he was worthless_ , she confided in a whisper to her former school mate.

Mary had envied Naomi when she left for college. She had lagged behind to take care of her sick mother and had never been able to go to college as she’d always wanted. Her mother had died and she had married her boyfriend who had returned from war. It had been a few years before the boys were born. They lived in a comfortable home, Mary being a full-time mother while John worked in a garage.

Now that she saw her friend there, bitter, resentful of her husband, who had been quite absent until he finally walked away from her, Mary felt sorry for her. Her blue eyes did not have the same brightness, nor did she have the same sparkle. She also felt for the boys. They were very different from each other, and of the two, the youngest seemed quite withdrawn. He looked at the people too seriously for a six-year old. But Dean's smile was enough for him to get closer.

Gabriel stayed home, refusing to go with his mother anywhere. He was going through a difficult phase, Naomi said. He was rebellious, disobedient and pulled pranks on his school mates. That kind of behavior led to scolding and punishment. She didn’t know what to do with the boy.

Castiel, on the other hand, was a quiet kid who loved reading, having learned by himself by watching his brother spelling. Drawing was his favorite pastime and as soon as they finished building the tower he ran to get the bag he left on the floor beside the couch, near his mother.

Dean had followed him in, curious about what there might be in that big, blue canvas bag. As Castiel crouched and opened it, Dean looked over his shoulder, his face lighting up when he saw a box of crayons and some sheets of paper.

"Come on, Cas, there's a small table in the kitchen."

Naomi smiled at the nickname her son earned from the boy he just met, but who had already managed to make him open up a little bit, something quite unusual. Castiel spent hours playing alone and drawing. Even at school he was a loner. But Dean had made him smile. If there were no other reasons, that alone would have made worthwhile meeting her old friend, she thought.

When Mary left the room to get her youngest, who woke up and was crying, Naomi went to the kitchen and watched the two boys sitting in small red plastic chairs, absorbed in their drawings and their private conversation. Dean was talking about the cars he drew on a race track. Castiel looked at Dean’s drawing with interest, before showing his own, which was a beehive in the center of a colorful garden. He loved bees and had several children’s books about them. He told what he knew to Dean, who frowned and listened intently. Dean turned his sheet of paper and, armed with a black crayon, traced a large smiling bee. Castiel laughed and said that the insects had no teeth, but that didn’t bother Dean. His bee had teeth and smiled happily. Castiel took a yellow crayon and helped his new friend color his drawing.


	2. Chapter 2

1990

Naomi worked hard to support her family, apparently the father had completely abandoned it. She got a job as a business consultant at a bank and her schedules were quite extensive.

Mary, who had grown fond of her friend's children, felt sorry for the boys being alone for so long after school. So Gabriel and Castiel came over to her house every day for a few hours. Even the oldest, who had a reputation for being difficult, in the Winchester household was a model child. He felt how they were welcomed there. He was very fond of helping Mary with the chores, especially those that concerned the baby. And little Sam loved Gabriel's banter. He never seemed to grow tired of playing hide and seek or crawling on the floor behind him.

Dean and Sam's mother noticed how affectionate and kind Gabriel was, despite all of Naomi's complaints. He would never tell her a story about school or the punishments he got for the romps. But sometimes, when he thought that no one was listening he told his little buddy about his father, an affectionate man whom he missed a lot. Mary began to doubt Naomi stories but she knew she could never confront her. She couldn't risk having the boys took away from her house.

Castiel, in particular, had undergone a major transformation since beginning his unconditional friendship with Dean. Although they weren’t in the same grade, they were always together, both at school and at home. Dean had brought joy and laughter to his serious countenance. Castiel, in turn, helped Dean control his quick temper and taught him to love reading. Together, they spent hours reading, watching TV and playing video games. The fights between the two were rare, but when they did fight, they could never stay away from each other for long.

John, for his part, was very fond of the boys, but he couldn't help but think that Mary had been fooled by her former school mate. In his view, Naomi took advantage of his wife's kind nature and her love for children to have some free time. He considered her cold and distant, a negligent mother to the two intelligent and affable boys with whom she had been graced by life. Sometimes John thought of the husband who was no longer part of the picture and how that behavior might have affected their marriage.

*****

Wherever Castiel went, he took his blue canvas bag. It contained the material he needed to draw, and as time went by, he got better at it. His artistic talent was innate and he developed it every day. The school's art teachers took him into high regard and motivated him to learn more and more by researching techniques and studying the works of the great masters.

He also enjoyed observing nature and people so he could draw them better. Whenever they went somewhere new, Dean knew that Cas needed time to observe and sketch the landscape or something that had caught his attention. He admired the gift of the friend and his persistence. But that didn’t make him feel left out, for it was like his obligation to be around, telling stories or  jokes, humming some song. He could tell that Castiel felt centered when he was around and Dean knew a lot about friendship to get away when his friend did what he knew best.

*****

1995

Castiel was a constant presence in the Winchester household. Gabriel, as soon as he had reached his teenage years, gradually drifted away, though he valued the family that had been the support he and his brother needed so much while they were young.

Naomi's youngest son, in addition to his close friendship with Dean, greatly appreciated Sam and his friend's parents. He felt much more at home there than in his own house, especially after his mother had remarried. It was customary for him to spend the weekends with his ‘adoptive’ family, staying over many nights or joining the trips they did from time to time. To Mary, it was as if she had always had three children, so much she loved the blue-eyed boy.

Naomi had joined the congregation of Pastor Zachariah Adler and married him in few months. The widower who was the head of the congregation felt that he needed a companion to advise him on parish matters and Naomi was still young, beautiful and very ambitious, qualities that he greatly enjoyed. Her children, on the other hand, were a nuisance, since neither showed any interest in the church. He awaited for them to be old enough and leave their lives.

Gabriel became a rebellious teenager who got his share of problems with drinking, girls, fights and even drugs. As soon as it became a threat to the seemingly immaculate image of Zachariah, he got his mother to send him away to a boarding school where Gabriel would pass to more experienced hands, less likely to accept his slips. The religious school to which he was sent at the age of fifteen was known to be extremely strict.

Castiel, who was thirteen, felt devastated by his brother's departure and despised his mother's husband, again seeking support in his friend's family. Mary welcomed him with open arms, realizing how much time Naomi dedicated to her husband and the church at the expense of the only son she still had to care for. Their friendship had cooled off after her attempts to indoctrinate the family into her husband's super-traditional, repressive church. Her efforts had been cut short by John. He had never been very supportive of Mary and Naomi’s relationship, and when Adler entered the equation it was the last straw.

*****

1997

It was a cold Saturday night when the news came. Mary had long had an extra bed placed in Dean’s bedroom to accommodate Naomi's son. Dean read and Castiel drew, sitting with the sketch pad on his knees.

The phone rang downstairs. After a few moments, the boys heard a brief discussion and steps coming up the stairs. John knocked lightly and opened the door to look at the boys who were still awake, despite the late hour.

"Castiel?" He called out, his voice disturbing the quiet of the room.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester... Is there a problem?" The boy jumped, his tone betraying his insecurity.

Mary pushed the door open all the way, apologized and sat down on the edge of Castiel’s bed. His blue eyes were apprehensive and she placed her hand over his, still holding the pencil. Dean could only look at them, eager to know what had happened.

"Castiel, dear… your mother called. She needs you to go home immediately. John will drive you."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"She wants to talk to you... We don’t know why, but she needs you."

The boy got up and started to dress as soon as the couple left the room. Dean also got up and was ready to go even before his friend. When Castiel realized he would not go home alone with John, his eyes brightened a little.

The ride home was silent. Dean, in the front seat, sometimes cast discreet glances behind him, where Castiel sat in anguish.

When Naomi opened the door she was red-eyed. Adler, sitting in an armchair, didn’t even deign to greet the man who had brought his stepson home at that late hour. Castiel was pulled in by the mother and John and Dean were quickly dismissed, with an ungracious 'thank you'.

When they returned home, Dean noticed the contempt of the father for the couple who had so unkindly treated them. He didn’t say anything, but he wished Castiel would never have to return to that house.

*****

Gabriel had run away from school, taking advantage of a local holiday, when most of the students had gone out for the day. He had forged a document authorizing him to accompany one of his friends and had disappeared. He had taken none of his belongings. The police had already started searching, but Zachariah thought Castiel might know something about his brother escape.

What happened when John left him at home was a thorough questioning. The man who was now his mother's husband felt entitled to intrude on his family's matters in a rude way, and the young man wouldn’t forgive him.

Unfortunately Castiel was not aware of his brother's plans and it took a few hours to convince Zachariah. He showed in every gesture that Naomi's children were an unwanted burden on his shoulders. Castiel wanted, more than ever, to belong to the Winchester family, who, despite their problems, considered him a part of it.

The disgusted look Zachariah had given him when finally left him in his mother's care was almost unbearable. Only out of respect for her Castiel didn’t tell what he thought about that despicable man.

He went up stairs to the cold bedroom waiting for him. The only source of pleasure he found there was the numerous artwork prints and his own drawings. He had selected some, not because they were particularly good, but because they had been made on joyous occasions. Gabriel, laughing at some joke. The landscape of the lake where the boys went camping with John, a few months before. Sam playing with his dog. An impromptu portrait of the Winchester family during a weekend barbecue. Some pictures of Dean. Those images were the  only source of warmth in that place.

He lay down, wishing he had someone to talk to, share his sadness. He felt lonely.

*****

After the incident with the eldest son, vigilance over the younger son intensified. Zachariah was intimately glad Gabriel was out of his life, since it had been a few months since his disappearance and had no clue of his whereabouts. Castiel was now required to participate in church activities during the week and on Sundays, which left him only Friday night and Saturday to be spent at his friend's house.

Dean, knowing how that forced coexistence with his own family and the absence of news from his brother were harmful to Castiel's spirit, did everything to entertain and please him, trying to make him feel more and more welcomed there. Castiel was grateful, for he recognized the other boy's efforts, which reflected his deep friendship.

On one of those nights Castiel was handed an envelope, which had strangely been addressed to the Winchester household. He had opened it immediately at the dinner table. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t speak for a moment.

The letter was from Gabriel. He had run away from boarding school, but he hadn’t been helpless. He had previously conducted some investigations and discovered his father's whereabouts. He had welcomed him and finally allowed him to get in touch with his brother. Apparently Naomi had made some threats about their children and the father had reluctantly stayed away from them.

Castiel shared the news with the people who he really considered his family and apologized, leaving the table. Dean wanted to follow him, but his father's hand held him there.

Later, when he took a snack to his friend who hadn’t had dinner, he found him lying down, his back to the door. Dean could hear the muffled sobs. He set the plate on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the mattress, one hand resting on his friend's shoulder.

Castiel turned and approached Dean for support.

When Mary came to see them before going to bed, she found them asleep in Castiel’s bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_1997_

Castiel longed to be reunited with his father again, but he and Naomi had come to an agreement: he should stay with his mother until he was eighteen. He wrote to his father through Gabriel and that made him feel a little better. A few more years and he'd be free to go to him if I wanted to. The boy, in fact, loved his mother and didn't want to sever ties with her, despite her being attached to Zachariah.

_*****_

_1999_

Life went on, as expected. Castiel started high school while his friend Dean graduated elementary school. But the friendship remained the same.

Dean noted Cas’ sadness about his family and did all he could to help him fell better. His connection with Cas was something that went far beyond the limits of friendship and family. The feeling of loyalty that united them was something inexplicable in his eyes. It was as if they had been made of the same fiber, though blood was not shared and they were different people with their own opinions and preferences.

When Castiel announced one day that he would study Art in Italy when he finished high school, Dean didn’t even think about questioning it.

Castiel had already talked to his father about it, and he had committed to funding his studies. Preparing for this goal, he began to study the Italian language, dedicating himself to the task with determination. Dean was amused by the strange sounds of the Latin language and learned, as if by osmosis, some words and expressions. Castiel began then to buy Italian comic books, as well as books and CDs. Often, while scratching something, Dean noticed him humming some Italian song under his breath. It was not exactly the kind of music he appreciated, but Cas liked it and it helped him in learn, so Dean could endure some songs by Laura Pausini, Eros Ramazotti and Nek.

As he progressed in his language studies, he never neglected his art, dedicating himself to various technical courses to perfect his talents. Naomi supported him, contrary to her husband's opinion. It was at these times that he felt she was not totally dominated by the closed world that the church imposed on her. And that was how he knew she still loved him.

_*****_

_2001_

"Cas... who are you taking to the prom?" Dean's voice came from the next bed as he tried to study for the Italian final.

"Ah... I haven’t thought of it yet... why?"

"If you don’t decide soon, you’ll end up alone, like last time."

"In fact, this kind of compulsory and outdated form of social interaction doesn’t appeal to me very much, as you know..."

"I know, I know... but one of your classmates invited me and I'd like to meet you there too... At _your_ prom, you know..." he replied, smiling.

"One of my classmates?" Cas asked, frowning. "Who's the lucky one?"

"Cassie Robinson. She invited me today after class. "

"Hmmm, Cassie... I didn't think sge was interested in ‘younger men'..." Dean almost heard the quotation marks.

"You are jealous that ‘the goddess’ haven’t invited you..." Dean said, teasing him. "By the way... have you thought about asking someone out before the school year is over?"

"I'm not going to start thinking about it now, I have a lot to do before school is over. And I haven't even started to prepare things for the beginning of the classes for the next semester... "

Dean was trying not to think about that. Castiel's grades had been approved by the University of Rome and his father had already instructed him to begin preparations to move there in September. He was going to miss the daily contact with the boy who had been his friend for so many years. To get the focus off that question, he insisted on talking about the prom.

"You have to ask someone out at least. What will the Italians think of the Americans? That we are all virgins at eighteen? "

"Your concern is touching, Dean, but as far as I know, you are in the same category as me..."

"But I'm not going to a foreign country to denigrate the image of the American boys... And... I... I am seriously thinking of changing my status as soon as possible."

"With Cassie... I suppose?" Castiel's penetrating gaze was on him.

"To tell you the truth... yes. If she wants to, of course! "

"Of course. I think there is a good chance of that… She had asked about you several times. It took quite a while for her to talk to you, though. "

"She asked about _me_? Cas... how come I never knew that? " The young man sad, running his hand over his face in despair.

"I didn’t find it relevant. And I don’t like to meddle in these matters, like you."

"Yes, yes, I know. I could already have... Dude! "

Castiel laughed, turning his eyes to him:

"Things happen when they happen, Dean."

"Well, now tell me the truth. Are you going to prom and try to do something or are you going to wait for a hot Roman woman to find out you're still as pure as an angel? "

Castiel sighed. When Dean made his mind, it was better to agree with him. It had always been like that.

"Okay, Dean, I'll see if Hannah has already been invited by someone..."

"Hannah? Mm, she's... kind of weird, isn't she? But she's cute. "

"Hannah is a good person. Don’t judge her by appearances."

"I think in this case, it's necessary. If we're going to do this... "

"Do what?"

Dean snorted, flustered:

"Taking the girls to a motel after the prom, what were we talking about?"

"You’re supposing they’ll agree to go with us..."

"Castiel, sometimes you frighten me! There is nothing like 'with us'. Cassie's going with _me_. Hannah is going with _you_." Castiel's serious face made him add quickly. "If they agree, of course. But I don’t doubt that. We are irresistible! "

Castiel laughed at the last statement. He didn’t feel irresistible at all. He felt, in fact, an inadequate teenager who only wanted to follow his dream, even if that would keep him away from family, friends and the country in which he was born. And in the face of this fact, he had decided to agree with Dean. They would go to the prom and enjoy all the opportunities they would have to be together.

*****

Dean had planned everything. He and Castiel would go to the dance together. There was nothing to be done, since John's Impala was the only car available. But as soon as they'd gotten to school after picking up the girls in their respective homes, Castiel and Hannah would leave Dean and Cassie alone to _‘warm up’_ as Dean had said.

Castiel had nodded his agreement. He didn’t think about Hannah like that and she clearly had never shown this kind of interest in him.

The dark-haired boy offered his hand to the young woman in a lacy dress to get out of the car. They walked together to the door, inexplicably affected by the circumstances, for she kept quiet, even if they had been friendly on previous occasions.

Castiel felt inadequate. He hated these situations in which there was too much formality. Hannah looked at him through her eyelashes, acting quite differently than usual.

They stopped for a second to take a picture. Castiel smiled at the assigned photographer, Chris, but he felt nauseous. Could Hannah really... want anything more with him? Not that she wasn’t... She was kind, intelligent, funny, and her big blue eyes and warm smile made her a cute girl. But Castiel didn’t think of her that way and didn’t want to create false expectations. A few months later he would be living on another continent and he didn’t intend to hurt a good girl like Hannah before leaving.

As they danced to their third song, Castiel watched Dean enter the room hand in hand with Cassie. He was visibly cheerful and winked for Castiel before wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist. Castiel lowered his eyes and tried to suppress a laugh. Dean was unbelievable!

Soon after, he felt that the girl he danced with snuggled closer. She was looking at him in a way that was supposed to be seductive. Acting with the honesty that was characteristic of him, he soon made it clear that he had invited her for the prom in the spirit of friendship and socialization. The girl, outraged, left him standing alone and ran toward the ladies’ room.

Castiel found himself suddenly alone while everyone looking at him. _Oh, all that teenage drama..._ He thought, discouraged.

*****

Dean came to find him sitting outside a few minutes later.

"What happened, Cas?"

"I told her that we were only friends, Dean. She got angry and left me. I shouldn’t have let yout talk me into this... "

"And there goes your chance..."

"There was never a chance, Dean! I wasn’t even thinking about it, to be honest... "

"I just hope you don’t come to regret it, man" Dean said, his face worried.

"Well, I'm going home. No reason to stay, right? "

"My house is closer. I don’t even want to think about you walking home."

"Okay," he said, standing.

Dean patted him on the back and walked back into the ballroom.

*****

Mary had opened the door with a puzzled look. She was annoyed to hear the details of what had happened, but she insisted that Castiel stayed there for the night.

He called his mother and told he was staying at Dean’s.

Castiel sat on the bed staring into the void after he had hung up the phone. He hadn’t been alone in that room in a long time. It was a lot different when Dean wasn’t there.

He sat with his back against the wall, loosening his tie. He reached under his bed for his sketchbook and started drawing to pass the time.

What began as a bucolic landscape, ended up having a portrait in the foreground. He had begun to sketch a field by a river and eventually drew the family that had welcomed him unconditionally so many years ago. He also included himself, at a small distance, his gaze directed at the people who formed a cohesive group. After thinking for a moment, he added the phrase "Family don't end with blood."

He thought about Dean. If everything was going as planned, he should be intimate with Cassie. Castiel didn’t know how he felt about it. He wanted to be happy for Dean, but something troubled him. He really didn’t want to think about that. His own sexuality, or his apparent lack of interest in it, was what caused that dubious feeling, he concluded. Maybe he was an asexual, like one of his classmates. Perhaps he hadn’t found the right person yet. Maybe he was attracted to...

He didn’t allow himself to continue in that line of thinking.

He got up and went to bed, taking an old t-shirt from one of Dean's drawers to sleep in.

*****

Castiel woke up when Dean stumbled inside, falling on the carpet with a muffled sound.

Castiel rose from the bed and helped him to his feet. Soon he realized that Dean was drunk.

"Dean... what happened... how..." He tried to talk to the half-conscious boy leaning on him. He made him lay on his own bed and noticed that the tie was missing and his collar undone.

" _Cas.._." he called softly.

"I’m here, Dean. I'm here. You better sleep, let me help you take off your shoes. "

Dean’s head fell against the mattress and Castiel knew he had completely shut down. He removed Dean’s socks and jacket, leaving him in his button down shirt and trousers. After hesitating for a moment, he also removed them, leaving only his underwear on.

He had seen Dean in many stages of almost nudity, and that shouldn’t affect him, but that night... Faced with the possibility that his friend had had sex for the first time, he stepped back. He felt Dean was different… As if he was a new person, someone he never met before. A stranger. 

He felt oddly affected by that.

Castiel closed his eyes so that he could no longer see the face and body that suddenly affected him that way. He dressed quickly and left the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel had not walked a couple of blocks when he came to his senses. Dean would be in trouble in the morning. He drank and he wasn’t supposed to. Castiel needed to go back and help him, despite the strange feeling that weighed on him.

Returning to the Winchester’s, he noticed the car parked on the driveway. Dean should have taken a cab or asked a friend to drive him home if he was intoxicated. He had taken a serious risk by driving back.

He entered the house again, locking the door behind him. He went upstairs silently, trying not to wake anyone up.

Dean had turned on the bed and now he had his back to the door. Castiel sat on his bed and stared at the unconscious boy, trying to get his thoughts in order.

He had never felt that for anyone before. He was assaulted by an almost irresistible attraction to the boy he'd regarded as his brother for more than a decade. He wondered how Dean would react if he knew.

If he’d be honest, he would realize that this feeling was not new, but the evolution of what I had been feeling for some months. Dean was maturing and becoming a very attractive young man, though he had always been handsome. His open personality, his easy laughter, his initiative and leadership made him a captivating person. But Cas had to wonder if his friend wouldn’t walk away from him if he knew he was into him. But Castiel had other things to consider.

How could he betray the trust of the family? John was a traditional man who probably wouldn’t welcome that kind of revelation. Castiel’s mother and his stepfather would get a fit if they knew.

He decided at the end of a long reflection that he wouldn’t say anything to Dean. It would be only a few months before he would be leaving and he didn’t want to ruin what they had. If he still felt attracted to men afterwards, at least he would be far away and would not compromise anyone else.

He got up and went to the bathroom. He filled a glass with water and took an aspirin from the cupboard. He set them down on Dean's bedside table, so he could take it upon awakening.

He undressed again and put on the t-shirt he had borrowed from his friend's drawer before. That gesture had a totally different meaning now. Before going to bed, however, he walked over to the other boy and covered him with the duvet. He took one last look and had to smile, seeing him drooling on the pillow as usual. This was the friend he knew.

If there was still any doubt in his mind, that had put an end to it. He could not risk the friendship that existed between them for nothing.

Sleep took a long while to come and it brought on haunting dreams.

*****

Dean rolled over in bed, feeling that his brain seemed loose inside the skull. His head throbbed. Squinting, he saw Castiel asleep in the next bed, as usual. He noticed the water and the painkillers, which must have been left by Cas. He remembered that his friend had helped him to lie down when he got home.

He was always around to support him, he thought. What would it be like when he went to Europe? Dean knew he would miss his friend a lot when he’d be gone.

He swallowed the pill and tried to be still for a while.

Castiel moved on the bed and opened one eye:

"Dean?" He muttered. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better. Thanks for the aspirin."

"You’re welcome. But I have to ask... Did you drive home last night? "

"No. Benny saw me trying to start the car and drove here. He pushed me inside... "

"That's better. I'll thank him later. Tell me... why did you drink? "Castiel asked finally.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck slowly, showing discomfort at the question. When he answered, he did it in a low voice:

"Cassie said no."

"Cassie said no?"

"How could I have imagined... Look, Cas, she's beautiful and smart... and I thought... But she said no. So I had some drinks to forget that my plan had gone downhill. "

"So you haven’t..." Cas said thoughtfully.

“No, Cas. We're still tied, unless you found someone on the way home who has taken your virginity... " He grunted. Sex bothered him more than it should, but boys, except for Castiel, were inclement.

He thought for a second, intrigued by the idea, and asked:

"You never talk about sex. Don’t you feel pressured to have sex? The guys on the team are always mocking those they know are virgins... It's uncomfortable!"

Castiel was out of his element in this conversation. He hadn’t been attracted to anyone until recently and the person couldn’t know.

"Well, I think we all go through this one way or another, but since I’m not part of any exclusively male group like your football team, I don’t feel like that."

"But you... don’t you feel like having sex?"

"I suppose this is normal, but until recently I... hadn’t felt like that about anyone."

"Recently? Who is it? Someone from school? "

"Well, Dean... it's a person... a classmate. I don't intend to do anything about it."

“A person... mm... you mean… a guy?"

Castiel swallowed hard before answering in a low voice:

"Yeah... it's a guy."

Dean heard his friend's confession and gave no sign of disapproval. On the contrary, he smiled and continued as if he thought nothing was wrong:

"That was the reason you had no interest in dating any girls! Do you like men then? "

"Well, I only felt that way about one boy, but if I think so... I probably must be... gay. Does that... bother you?"

"Why would it bother me? I believe that everyone has to follow their heart and look for happiness wherever they can find it. If I was interested in a guy... for real, I mean... I guess I would do anything to be with him."

Castiel lowered his eyes and smiled. Dean was really a good friend. His absence would be almost impossible to overcome.

"Thank you, Dean," he finally said.

"You're welcome, Cas. You're always around to support me... "And his mind reminded him that the other boy wouldn’t be around much longer and that if he ever came back, things would probably never be the same again. Trying to dispel those sad thoughts, he asked,

"What if we... invited my father and Sam to go fishing?" He tried to relive, while they could, those moments they had enjoyed so much in the past.

"Are you feeling up for this?"

"I'm better. Come on, let's see if Sam is awake. "

*****

On the last Sunday before leaving for New York, where his father and brother were waiting for him, Castiel felt sad. He had been invited to lunch at the Winchester's and he knew it would be his farewell.

He approached the door slowly, experiencing every step of the way. He rang the doorbell and looked down, wondering how many times he had been there. It seemed that this house and the people who lived there had been responsible for the best moments of his life.

Mary opened the door and hugged him, pulling him inside. Sam was in the living room and got up to greet him. Dean was in the kitchen, lending a hand at seasoning the meat. John was in the yard, heating the grill. They had planned a special lunch for him.

Castiel thought what it would be like, after a few days, when he would land in Europe, absolutely alone. His eyes filled with tears, but he disguised it by going out to help John.

The summer vacation had arrived and this time he would pass them in a totally different way. _Alone_ \- this was the key word. And now that he had a huge secret inside his chest, he felt it would be even lonelier. 


	5. Chapter 5

_2015_

Dean stretched slowly. It took him a few seconds to remember that he wasn’t on his own bed in his Los Angeles apartment. He was back at his mother's house for a few days, lying in the old single bed. He looked up to the wall covered in rock bands posters and smiled.

So much had changed since the last time he had slept in that bedroom. In those days, his father was still alive and Sam was single. And he had Lisa.

He sat on the mattress and smelleed coffee. His mother treated him like a king when he was at home. He was very sorry for her that now she lived all alone, after so many years of having a full house. She had always had a penchant for taking responsibility and caring for people.

It was what she would do again soon, when her daughter-in-law, Madison, would arrive. She was six months pregnant, and the doctor had determined that she would need absolute rest for the rest of her pregnancy if she wished to carry it through.

Dean, worried about his family, came in for help over the weekend. Her mother would never ask for anything, but Dean knew she needed help.

They had improvised a bedroom on the ground floor of the house so Madison didn’t have to climb the stairs. They also got a hospital bed and a wheelchair. Madison said it was too much, but none of the Winchester wanted to take chances.

Dean had arrived the day before and since then he removed the furniture from his father’s old office so it would be converted into a bedroom. He painted the walls a soft green. Afterwards he spent hours going in and out of the attic, storing what wasn't needed. In one of those passages, he saw something that caught his attention.

On top of several cardboard boxes marked 'DEAN' in Mary's neat handwriting, there was one bearing the inscription 'DEAN/CASTIEL'. What would be inside it?

Curious, he took the box and brought it closer to the dusty window. As he opened it, he found his friend's faded blue canvas bag on top of the pile. Cas had left it behind when Dean had given him a new one before his trip to Italy.              

The memory of the day he had fist seen that old thing made him smile. He remembered how Cas had treated that simple object and its contents like a treasure. And how he had no problem in sharing his stuff with Dean. They had spent many hours involved with the things the other boy had always carried in there. Soon enough Dean had realized he haven’t have much of a penchant for drawing. Castiel, however, improved day by day. He had desired to become an artist.

Opening the bag, he found a pile of old sketches in slightly yellowed sheets. He sat down on the floor and looked carefully at them, sometimes smiling, sometimes moved to tears, as when he found a portrait of his father fishing. It had been done quickly, in a moment of inspiration, perhaps on the very banks of the lake, but Castiel had managed to perfectly grasp his posture and the facial expression of the man who was a father figure to him as well. A wave of longing fell upon Dean, remembering a happier, carefree time when his family was complete and they all lived under one roof.

Castiel had practically lived there for many years, and his presence had been decisive in developing Dean’s own personality. Not for the first time, he realized how much he still missed Cas, even though it had been more than a decade.

At first they had written many letters to each other, but by the time Dean had gone to college in California, the correspondence had gradually faded to its complete extinction. He was sorry that things had gone that way.

He felt a great curiosity about what happened to the boy who once was his closest friend. Cas had confided to him, a month before he left, that he was attracted to boys. Had he found someone to share his life with? Was he right now in the arms of another man that loved him as he deserved?

Dean thought about himself, how his attempts to find a significant person had led to countless unfulfilling relationships until he met Lisa. The first time he had been able to consider marriage. But Dean felt that even though he loved the young woman he had committed to, that couldn’t be all. He felt in his heart that there should be more to life than a comfortable relationship. Stability was overrated. Passion had long been missing and he had finally broken up with her.

Lisa suffered at first, but over time seemed to came to the same realization as Dean. She remained his friend and the rest had been forgotten. It had been more than six months since the breakup, and hadn't found anyone else since.

Until that moment, he thought. _Castiel_. Something inside him snapped, a sharp sense of longing. He rummaged through the bag and at the bottom, along with several worn-out pencils and erasers, he found a CD.

A photograph of a man with long hair, wearing a hat and holding a guitar, next to a rooster. That was on the cover of the CD. It was a colored photo over a background that had once been white. On top, the name of the artist, ‘ _Zucchero’,_ flanked by two little angels. Under the photo, the title was _‘Spirito DiVino’_. It must have been one of the CDs he had bought while studying Italian, but Dean didn’t remember it. Dean had never been a fan of Italian music, considering it to be too mellow.

The last thing he found in there was a drawing of his whole family. Castiel was in it as well, although he was a little withdrawn and looked at others with undeniable tenderness. He had written  _‘Family don’t end with blood’_ on one side.

Dean's eyes closed for a moment. It was dated from the year in which he graduated high school and left for Italy.

Dean stood and took the bag and its contents with him, not quite sure what to do with all that. One thing was certain: his mother had to see that family portrait.

*****

Later, walking into a store, he thought about how excited his mother was when she saw the family portrait. She sat on the couch for a long time, the old drawing in her hands. She then asked him buy a frame so she could put it on the mantel next to other family photos.

Dean chose a black, simple frame that would not attract too much attention from the image. He smiled at the thought that this kind of knowledge he had acquired exactly from the author of the picture which brought him here.

At night, sitting at the dinner table, Mary, not yet fully recovered from the emotional moment, asked if Dean knew anything about his old friend, since it had been a few years since he had written to her for the last time.

Dean had to admit that the correspondence between them probably had ceased due to the fact that he himself had been too busy in college to take that exchange more seriously. Not only busy with his studies, he had to be honest. College life had been a time of discovery, not just in the academic scenario. It was then that he had discovered...

His line of thought was interrupted by his mother's voice, which asked him softly:

"You never thought about going to visit him, Dean? I know you hate flying, but... You two have always been so close... Maybe you could rekindle that beautiful friendship... "

"I can’t say that I thought about going to Europe, but I would very much like to see him again... maybe someday he will return to America."

"I miss him, Dean. He was like a son to me, you know. "

Dean felt guilty for neglecting their correspondence but he also thought that Castiel should have written to his mother more often. This wasn’t compatible with his caring nature, but who could tell what had happened in his life during these years when they were apart?

*****

Sam and Madison arrived on Sunday afternoon. She looked quite dejected and as soon as they arrived Sam put her to bed, making sure she was comfortable.

There was also a sofa in Madison’s bedroom, in which Sam would sleep when he was there on weekends, and at the moment the three of them would sit on it so they could make the young woman part of their conversation.

After discussing all her care procedures, the conversation drifted to amenities. When she remembered something, Mary stood and went to the living room to get the picture Dean found the day before. She showed it to Sam, who smiled fondly. He got up and took it to Madison.

"Castiel drew this?" She asked, moved by the sentimental content of the image. "He must have loved you all very much. Too bad he's so far away... Did he ever came back?" She had learned about him from family albums and countless photos scattered across the house.

"No, he moved to Italy and never came back... I think he must have made a life for himself there.” Mary answered, pensive.

Dean thought about seeing him again. If he wanted to go to Europe, how would he proceed? Maybe if he looked for Gabriel in New York...

 _Why did he think about it so insistently now?_ Castiel had been, in one way or another, always in the back of his mind, but the last events had made him take a more prominent place.

Shaking his head as if by simple movement he could forget about it, he thought he still had to go home that night. Work waited for him the next day. He should stop focusing on fantasies and think about reality.

But when he got into the car he made sure the old blue canvas bag was in the trunk, next to his duffel.


	6. Chapter 6

The object Dean brought from his mother's house was placed on the dresser in his bedroom. Every day, when he opened a drawer to get something, his eyes fell on the canvas bag. The impact on him was immense.

After a week, he slipped the bag into the back of the closet, out of his sight, regretting to have brought it with him.

One night, returning to the empty house, he went straight to his room and took Castiel's belongings out of hiding. He sat on the floor, unable to leave until he had looked at those things again. He took the CD, his fingers sliding over the picture on the cover. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to a man he hasn’t seen for many years. He should be able to get it back.

At that moment, a tear running down his face, he decided to accept the offer they made him at work, to attend a convention in London, in two weeks' time. He would be in Europe, wouldn’t he? If he still had the will and the courage then, he could go to Italy and...

_And what?_

He didn’t know yet. But he would schedule his vacation for right after the event, so he would have time to make some decisions and take action.

He let out the air that seemed trapped in his chest with a long sigh. He wiped his face and stood up, a new hope shinning in his eye.

*****

Finding Gabriel Novak was easy. Sam had represented his firm a few months before in a negotiation, but he didn’t want his brother to know that he was planning to visit Castiel. Why? He honestly didn’t know, but he felt he hadn’t really made up his mind to do so yet. Sometimes he was terrified at the idea, although on most days the prospect was comforting.

Then he searched for Gabriel on his own. He hadn’t been close to him; Castiel had always been his playmate and confidant. Gabriel had left their lives too early.

It was with surprise and joy that he received the call from the old acquaintance.

"Dean-o! What's up, man?"

"Hello, Gabe. I’m fine and you?"

"I’m okay... What brings you back from the mists of the past, my friend?"

"Well, I..." He felt uncomfortable asking for what he wanted. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, but he continued, his voice an octave higher: "Could you tell me Castiel's address in Italy? I'll probably go to Europe..."

"Are you going to visit him? Finally! That's good news, he'll be happy to know... "

"Ah, no... please don’t tell him anything yet... The trip isn't confirmed yet and I'm not sure if I will have the chance to see him, but..."

"I strongly advise you to take the time to visit my little brother, Dean."

Hearing Gabe’s false menacing tone, Dean replied, half jokingly:

"Well, that's what I need the address for, do you intend to give it to me anytime soon?"

When the call ended, he sat for a few minutes staring at the piece of paper with the address written on it.

He was going to do that. 

*****

Disembarking in London after the twelve-hour flight from Los Angeles, Dean felt in shambles. He hated flying, and even under the dubious effect of alcohol, the trip was a torment. He decided not to think about the return trip.

He took a cab from Heathrow airport to the hotel he would stay for a few days. He had decided to stay in a small one, at Earl's Court, away from the hubbub of convention, which would take place in the heart of London. Even if he had to commute daily, he hoped that the neighborhood and its proximity of Kensington Gardens, gave him an opportunity to think more clearly about what was to come.

Walking in the morning and looking at the sky which seemed eternally gray to an inhabitant of the city where the sun shone every day in a splendid blue one, he was mulling over the plans he had made after long and deep deliberation. He entered the subway station, wishing he could already be back at his hotel room and schedule the flight that would take him to Rome.

His stomach tightened with anxiety, but his chest seemed infinitely lighter with the possibility.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean looked again at the piece of paper in which he had written the address. It was in a residential neighborhood, away from the central part of Rome, filled with low-rise apartment buildings, surrounding a small square in which there was a restaurant and a cafe.

He paid the cab driver and got out of the car, pulling his luggage with him. He looked at the building apprehensively. Although it was Saturday afternoon, there was no way of knowing if Castiel would be home. After all, he hadn’t told him that he would come.

He went to the front door and pressed the intercom button. There was no answer. He tried again, hoping Castiel hadn’t heard it the first time.

As he waited for him to answer, a man approached the door, behind him, with a key in his hand to open it. Dean turned to give him room to enter and their eyes met. The light-haired man with a British accent stopped and said, unceremoniously:

"Well, well... if it's not Dean Winchester!"

"Excuse me?" He asked, surprised. He had never met that man before.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You don’t know me. I’m Balthazar, a friend of Castiel's. " He offered his hand. Dean shook it thinking there was no need to introduce himself, since the other man already knew who he was.

"Is he at home?"

"He hasn’t lived here in ages, dear."

"Oh." Gabriel had given him this address; probably he didn’t know that he had moved. "Has he moved… recently?"

"He doesn’t live in Rome anymore. He's in Florence, finishing his master's thesis. "

Dean must have shown his disappointment on his face, for Balthazar said quickly:

"I have his address. If you want to come up with me... "

"Thank you," Dean said, stepping behind the other in the lobby.

They climbed a flight of stairs and continued down a corridor to the door where the number Dean had called before.

With a smile and a curious look, Balthazar opened the door and motioned for him to enter first.

Dean stopped in the small hall. It was a small but cozy apartment. There were potted plants everywhere.

"Why don’t you sit down while I get the address?"

He disappeared through a door and Dean sat there, looking around. As he glanced over the far wall, he saw what must have been a framed Cas' work. He got up and came closer. It was the image of a satyr, made in pastel. The model for that image had obviously been Balthazar. His hair and eyes were unmistakable. He was depicted looking toward the observer over his naked shoulder. The shadow of a wicked smile could be seen on the part of the face that was shown.

Suddenly Dean realized how real that portrait was. He blushed and moved away, the erotic connotation only suggested, but too apparent to him. Turning in the opposite direction, he found Balthazar's gaze.

"Nice work, isn’t it? Our Castiel is very talented. "

"Um ... yes, he is," he said, clearing his throat.

"You didn’t ask me how I know who you are, Dean... Can I call you Dean?"

"It's all right. I confess it was a bit of a shock listening to a complete strange call me by my name."

"I have here some things that belong to Cassie that I should have sent him months ago, but I forgot. So I'll give it to you, assuming you plan on going to Florence to see him..." Opening a big cardboard box, apparently full of books, he took a sketchbook, like so many Dean had seen in his friend's hands over the years. Opening it, Balthazar leafed through it quickly and showed the contents of one of the pages to the man in his living room.

It was a half-profile portrait of Dean, his gaze focused out of the composition. His face was represented there in all its details, realistically. It had been made out of memory, according to the scrawled date below. This was Dean at the age of seventeen, the haircut he wore then, his lips fuller, his face softer, covered in freckles. He smiled when he remembered that once he had complained that Cas always drew too many freckles, they must have been about ten or eleven at the time. Dean had always hated his freckles, and after that, whenever he had been portrayed by Castiel, they were almost absent.

There was no need for Castiel to avoid them any longer, for Dean was not likely to see that portrait. But fate seemed to plan differently, for there he was looking at the pencil drawing made about five years earlier.

Balthazar must have been enjoying Dean's expressions since he was smirking. He gestured, urging Dean to keep looking at the other pages.

Dean blushed again, for the sketchbook was filled with portraits of his. Most of them alone, but sometimes Sam or the parents had also been represented.

"This sketchbook was the subject of a terrible fight between us, Dean. I found it, hidden in the bottom of a drawer, and he refused to tell me who the boy who filled his pages was. Finally, after much discussion he told me everything about his _childhood friend_ Dean Winchester. "

Dean had nothing to say. He was silent, his eyes fixed on his own on a portrait in which he stared completely at the viewer.

"I'm not a particularly jealous guy, but... these portraits... I told him I'd throw this sketchbook away if we were to stay together. I couldn’t do it, though. So I thought I'd give it back… now that it doesn’t matter anymore."

_'Doesn’t matter?' That meant they weren’t..._

"We're not together anymore, if that's what you are wondering."

"I... no..." was all he managed to mumble. What was expressed in those pages was too obvious.

*****

Balthazar was kind enough to indicate a nearby hotel and suggest a good car rental service so Dean could drive to Florence. He was relieved to leave the apartment, suddenly the place seemed too oppressive.

As he sat on the bed in the cold room he would occupy for only one night, he thought that it wasn’t how he imagined things would happen. Taking the sketchbook from the box, he turned it in his hands a few times before opening it again.

It was painful to realize the feelings that had generated all those portraits. There were some who expressed a deep longing for the childhood friend and his family, for the good times they had shared. But in most of them what seemed to be expressed... It was both a source of great pleasure and deep regret for Dean.

Realizing in those reverent pictures how much Castiel had... _What?_

It was clear to Dean now that he himself should be the boy Cas had mentioned when he said he was attracted to a guy. At that moment, he'd been too involved with his own problems to realize what his friend felt for him.

Dean wondered what might have happened if he had known then. While he wasn’t prejudiced - and afterwards he himself came to experience attraction for some men - at that time he probably would have been scared. Maybe he would have rejected Cas. Or maybe he would see then what he saw now.

Years had passed before Dean realized what was missing in his life. Not just a friend, but a companion. He did not know how to name the feeling he carried in his heart, for he had never felt anything like it for anyone else. But it was real, immense, and undeniable.

His fingers ran over his own features in one of the portraits. He closed the sketchbook and returned it to the box. He opened his suitcase and added the canvas bag and the Zucchero CD to the box.

*****

The trip between Rome and Florence was short, just over three hours. But Dean drove well below the speed limit. He'd lied to himself that it was to enjoy the scenery and the beautiful sunny Sunday, but in fact, now that he was about to see Cas again after all those years, he felt a bit intimidated. Balthazar had wanted to show him some of the more recent pictures of him when he learned that they hadn’t seen each other for over ten years. Dean didn’t want to see the two of them together, not even in a photograph. He refused to imagine that the two men had lived as a couple for more than two years.

His chest tightened at the thought that he might be living with someone else, since Balthazar had told him they had been apart for at least one year and a half. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was a possibility. Hadn’t he been engaged just six months before?

He looked at the GPS. He had noticed the verdant landscape of vineyards and woods gradually giving way to a more urbanized area.

Cas didn’t live in the central area of the city. The indications of the GPS led him to a residential street, filled with two or three-story houses. Looking at the numbers, he found the one that indicated Castiel's house.

It was a narrow building like all the others, painted light gray, with white details on the façade. It had a dark door, opening to a small garden. There was a red scooter standing there, next to the door. Dean couldn’t find a place to park the car in front of the house, though. The street was totally occupied by vehicles. He noticed that the houses rarely had a garage, so the residents used to park in the street.

It took a while to find a spot. He didn’t bother taking his luggage out of the trunk. He planned asking his old friend if there was a hotel nearby. The cardboard box, containing the belongings that Castiel left behind along the way, also stayed in the trunk, since he didn’t want to cause any kind of embarrassment. They needed to talk first. Then he would decide how to do it.

His walked slowly. His nervousness was intense and he struggled with anxiety and fear. Then he bravely decided to put an end to that misery. With quick steps he headed for the gray house, ringing the doorbell, giving himself no time to doubt the resolution.

His confidence, however, began to falter as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and approaching the door.

Someone looked through the peephole. Had the person hesitated for a moment?

The sound of a key turning in the lock made Dean’s heart race, blood running to his face. He felt like he was on fire!

When the door opened, his eyes met the perfect blue ones he had not seen for nearly fourteen years.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of embarrassment. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he wore only an old pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare. He hadn’t shaved. He had been reviewing his thesis all morning.

"Dean?" It was only what he managed to utter when he saw his old friend.

"Hey, Cas." The answer was given in a low voice accompanied by an unsure smile.

Before either of them could think of anything else to say, Cas held out his hand and Dean took it. Their eyes met, thrilled at last, as their bodies approached for a tight hug.

In a pure and perfect instant, Dean allowed himself to feel. Cas relaxed against him, a source of warmth and solidity.

They parted, still a little awkwardly, after the unexpected emotional demonstration of the two.

"Come in... What are you doing in Italy, Dean?"

Dean accepted the invitation, responding:

"Long story, I thought of coming to visit you, after all."

"Gabriel gave you my address? He told me that he was in contact with Sam... "

They entered the pleasant living room. Bookcases covered two of the walls, while reproductions of artwork and photographs adorned the wall in which there was no window. Two sofas, an armchair, a heavy coffee table also covered in books and magazines on an old Persian rug completed the unpretentious decor.

Dean thought how he would tell Cas what happened in Rome.

"Well, yes... and no. He gave me your old address in Rome. "

Sitting down, Castiel seemed to realize what had happened.

"You talked to him again or..."

"Balthazar. He gave me your new address."

 "Oh," he said, shaking his head slowly. Castiel knew that if he depended on his ex-partner, their relationship had been as exposed as Dean had allowed. He wouldn’t spare Dean the sordid details.

"He was very... kind to me. He looks like a good person. "

"Um, yes, he is. A little ... indiscreet sometimes. "

Dean laughed, for he understood how this might embarrass a reserved person like Castiel.

"Well, I rented a car and drove here. Beautiful landscape."

"Have you had lunch?" Faced with Dean's silent refusal, he continued,

 "We can go out to eat. If you give me a few minutes to change... "

"I don’t mean to get in the way if you're busy. Balthazar told me that you are finalizing your thesis... "

"It will be good to rest a while, my head was already aching. And we need to talk. Fourteen years, is it?"

"Yes, almost... So I’ll wait for you to get... dressed." He said the last word, too conscious that to get dressed it would probably require Cas to undress. He couldn’t let his mind drift like that.

Dean got up from where he was and looked out the window. Quiet street, sunny day. It had been a good start with the old friend. He was fine, even though he looked a little tired.

It was a few minutes before Castiel returned. Silently he stopped at the living room door and watched the man who was looking out of the window. His eyes slid over the strong figure. He had become a handsome man.

When Dean turned, a smile came to his lips. A warm smile that hadn’t changed in all those years. Only a few little wrinkles around his eyes were new, but they added character to the handsome face Dean had always had.

Dean appreciated the sight Cas had presented to him. He looked like an athlete, not an academic, he thought, his eyes fixed on his thick thighs in his dark jeans.

"Is the restaurant near? My car is parked two blocks away... "

"No, let's walk, it's close. I always eat there on Sundays. I hope you’ll enjoy."

*****

Walking through the quiet neighborhood, the conversation began to flow more naturally as they seemed to absorb the physical changes that had taken place over time.

The restaurant was small, a family run business. As they entered, Cas was greeted by a young woman with dark hair:

 _"Ciao, Castiel, come stai?"_ (Hi, Castiel, how are you?)

 _"Bene, Marghe, grazie._ _É troppo tarde per il pranzo?_ _"(_ Well, Marghe, thank you. Is it too late for lunch?)

The young woman told them that her father was still in the kitchen, preparing the last meals. She led them to a table near the window and left them there to choose what they would eat.

Dean didn’t know what to choose, so the Cas chose the dishes and ordered. Dean appreciated the other man's resourcefulness in the foreign language and his familiarity with the young woman. That shouldn’t have surprised him, since Cas had lived in Italy for a long time, but he had in mind the shy teenager, not yet tested in everyday language.

 When the girl was gone, Castiel turned his attention to him and asked:

"How is your mother?"

"She's doing well, very excited about becoming a grandmother. Since my father passed away, she didn’t look so good. "

"I’ve heard about it, Dean, I’m so sorry."

"Thank you. He didn’t suffer, at least. The heart attack was fulminant. "

"And the baby?"

"If everything goes well, it should be born in three months. But Madison has to rest so my mother is taking care of her. "

"Your mother is in her element, then. She has the gift of caring for people... "

“Yes, that's true." Dean lowered his eyes, remembering how his mother had been an invaluable support in the lives of so many people, including the man in front of him.

"And how about you? Are you in Europe for a vacation? "

"Well, I came to London for a convention, but since I had vacation time, I decided to come and visit you. I had already gone through the worst part, across the ocean ... "

"Are you still afraid of flying?"

"I wouldn’t say it's fear... It is mind-blowing thinking about that huge plane in the air…"

"I see... I'm glad you came, Dean," he said with a genuine smile.

Dean felt himself warm from the inside. He felt a little sentimental.

Margherita, the waitress, approached with their entrees and for a few minutes the conversation turned to the tasty food.

After the meal, they walked back down another path so Dean could appreciate the beauty and calm of the neighborhood where his friend lived.

"Was it easy for you to get used to living here, Cas?" He asked curiously.

"At first ... no. I had some difficulty making friends, but then, when I started the course, things started to settle. The truth is... I missed you all so much... "

Dean heard this, trying to compare it with his personal experience. Cas' absence had been felt keenly by them as well.

They arrived and Dean hesitated. He didn't want to disturb Cas activities.

"Cas, I... I don’t want to bother you, you're working ..."

"You’re not disturbing me in any way. It's been a long time since I've had a free Sunday with a friend. Come on. "

Dean was led in and headed back to the living room. He imagined what it was like to live there. If Cas had friends who visited him. If he was dating... But he could not ask any of that.

"Are you planning to stay in Florence for a few days?"

Dean had not really planned much more than finding Cas again. He hadn’t seen Rome in his eagerness to come here and meet Cas, and he didn’t know what to do.

"I really don’t have a plan or anything... But it would be good to see Florence at least. Are there any hotels around where I can stay? "

"Hotel? Yes, there are some in the neighborhood, but... I... I would like very much if you stayed here... in my house for as long as you want. "He said, feeling bold. Dean's presence had rekindled some of the feelings he had tried to keep in check for all that time. He didn’t think he could let him go so soon, even if it would hurt him later.

"Here? In your house? I wouldn’t..."

"It would be great to be able to talk to you some more, Dean. Please ... If you don’t mind sleeping in my office. "

"If it doesn’t really bother you ..."

"I can take a few days off to show you the city. There is so much to see. Where is your luggage? "

"I left it in the car."

"Shall we fetch it? Too many bags?"

"No, just a small bag and..." He remembered the cardboard box, stopping abruptly.

Castiel looked at him curiously.

"There's also ... a box that Balthazar asked me to give you," he said, blushing as he remembered the sketchbook full of incriminating images inside. Castiel probably didn’t know it still existed.

"Balthazar sent my books? I thought he'd forgotten, "he said, laughing.

They headed for the rental car, and as soon as Dean opened the trunk, his chest tightened as Castiel leaned to pick up the box, not really imagining what it contained.

Dean felt uneasy, but he knew there was no avoiding the confrontation when they returned to the house.

Castiel led him up the stairs, where a landing opened to four doors. The one that was open was the office, where he was instructed to leave his bag. He saw his friend put the box down on the floor, near the desk.

Then Cas showed him that the bathroom was just across the hall. The door beside it, half open, it was Cas’ bedroom, for a double bed, unmade, was in the middle of the room, the clothes Cas had worn before her casually thrown over it.

The last door led to the studio. In the past it should have been a small terrace but a glass cover had been added and created a space where the natural light spread in a magnificent way. There was a rustic table in a corner, covered with tubes of paint and several pots containing brushes of different sizes. An open closet accommodated papers and other artistic supplies. In the middle, an easel and a canvas that was still a work in progress, an abstract work. It surprised Dean. Castiel had always focused on figurative painting.

On the walls, various drawings and canvases were hung. It was a cozy environment and Dean felt at home. They sat down, Cas on a high stool, and Dean on a plain, ink-stained bench, and the conversation turned to Castiel's routine. When the daylight began to fade, they went downstairs to prepare the evening meal.

Dean leaned against the kitchen counter with a beer and watched the host prepare some sandwiches and a salad. His long, nimble fingers were hypnotic and he found himself wondering what it would be like to be touched by them. Embarrassed, he tried talk about something, but found himself betrayed by his own mind:

"Do you exercise?" He felt his ears warm as he realized where the question had come from.

"I usually run. I find it a relaxing exercise. Why do you ask? "

"I see you care about your health, your choices of food ... I thought you should work out too" he said, making it even more embarrassing. He couldn’t help but think of the muscular thighs in which he had fixed his attention all afternoon as they talked in the studio.

"Don’t you?"

"Well, I go to the gym sometimes. I'm not very dedicated, to tell you the truth. And I still loathe rabbit food" he finished, looking at the large bowl his friend stirred vigorously.

Castiel could only laugh at the comment. That was his friend, no doubt.

"So you are exempt from eating it. It's a shame because I'm very good at preparing salads... "

After eating, Dean said he was tired and would like to go to bed. Castiel suggested that he take a shower while he was going to fix the bed for him.

Dean picked up his things and headed for the bathroom. As he left, from the corridor he could see Castiel sitting at his desk, his back to him, the box open at his feet.


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean entered the room, Castiel turned. In his hands he had the canvas bag and the CD. His eyes were wet and he didn’t try to hide the emotion he felt.

"This was not put here by Balthazar, Dean. Thanks for getting me these things back. I didn’t know they still existed. " He lowered his head as he stared at the CD cover.

Dean wondered if he should get close, touch him somehow. A hand on the shoulder would suffice.

Feeling the soft touch, Castiel looked up, smiling,

"I found the bag in the attic where my mother kept many of my things when I moved to Los Angeles. The CD was inside, along with several drawings. I don’t remember it, but I knew it could only be yours. "

"This CD ... I used to love it. Maybe you heard me hum a song or two while drawing. "

"I don’t remember, but I'm glad you enjoyed the memories. My mother will know that you appreciated her effort to keep all those things ... "

Before leaving the room Castiel got up and touched Dean affectionately in the arm. He started walking toward the door, when he seemed to remember something. He turned and took the sketchbook Balthazar had sent him, which was closed on the desk. He said nothing about it. With a grave _'good night'_ he left the room, closing the door quietly. Dean lay down, pondering over everything that had happened that day.

*****

Dean woke up the next morning with a song playing. It wasn’t familiar.

He got up and went to the bathroom. The music came from downstairs. He realized that Castiel was singing along with it.

He dressed quickly and went to find the owner of the house in the kitchen. Dean stopped when he saw him not only singing, but dancing along with the song that came from the room.

"Good morning, Dean," he said cheerfully, still dancing.

Dean sat down at the table, smiling and wondering how he could be so long immune to the charm of that special man. Why couldn’t he feel this way when they lived in the same town? Maybe time and distance had put things in perspective.

"It's the CD you brought... I have to thank you again."

Dean listened, for a moment. The rhythm was contagious, a mix of rock and blues, while the rasping singer sang in Italian, interspersing phrases in English. He admired Castiel’s body, which moved freely. He had never been so uninhibited as a young man. Perhaps it was Balthazar's influence, he thought, suddenly sad. So much about him Dean didn’t know and would never know. They had practically had a life away from each other.

But Castiel, still showing himself to be in tune with the young man with whom he had grown up, directed the conversation to a light subject, diverting it from his unwanted thoughts:

"How about getting to know the historic center of the city today?"

"If it doesn’t disrupt your work, I would like it very much."

"Well, there's the Cathedral, the Baptistery, the museums... The Piazza Michelangelo... Sorry, but you're going to take the tour with an Art History specialist. You will be subject to my choices. If they are too much for you, please let me know. "

"If you feed me well at lunch, I accept your choices without discussion," he said, laughing.

 "Just that condition? Well, if I take you to have the best ice cream of your life, I wonder what else I can get from you... "He said, jokingly.

Dean didn’t overlook the possibility that something was interpreted dubiously in that question. But he wasn’t going to let those inopportune thoughts get in the way of interacting with Cas.

He went upstairs to get the car keys and when he returned he found his friend outside, still humming. He seemed in a good mood. Dean felt light and thought that sometimes good things happened in his life.

*****

After having visited the Piazza Michelangelo, from which one could have a beautiful view of the city, they went to the Cathedral.

Castiel explained what they saw in detail, as when they stopped in front of the "Doors of Paradise" of the Baptistery, he demonstrated his knowledge but didn’t seem pedantic. He made it all seem simple and involved Dean who was impressed by his knowledge and attitude. He understood why he had come to Florence to get a Master's degree in Education. He would be an excellent teacher.

In addition to knowing the historical and tourist attractions, the simple walk down the busy streets seemed extremely pleasant to Dean. He knew this was due to the company of the intelligent and handsome man who accompanied him.

When they were tired of walking, Castiel fulfilled his promise, taking him to lunch in a good restaurant. Satisfied, they walked a few more minutes until the blue-eyed man stopped in front of an imposing building.

"Dean, we are facing a solemn moment. Inside this building stands one of Michelangelo's most important works, David. Whenever I come here the guards have to force me out when it's time to close, for the statue has an almost hypnotic power over me. If you see me drooling, drag me out, please. " He finished, smiling.

"But ... there was a David at the Piazza della Signoria…?" Dean asked, confused.

"No, that's just a replica. The real one is here, in the Museo dell'Accademia, protected from weather and pollution. "

They paid for the ticket and entered, turning right on a wide corridor containing several unfinished statues. It led to a vaulted room, flooded with natural light, where Michelangelo's masterpiece reigned majestically in the center. 

On a tall pedestal, executed in the whitest of the marbles, was the statue of the young warrior who, with only a stone, had defeated a giant.

Castiel entered the room reverently. Dean followed, raising his eyes to contemplate the beauty of that work that was considered perfect.

The room was crowded, and expressions of admiration permeated the air. Dean had to agree, it was a magnificent work of art.

The young man's resting musculature moments before the fight, in contrast to his focused stare, immediately attracted his attention. Castiel pointed to the hand that held the stone, tense, slightly out of proportion, while the other, over his shoulder, hung the sling. It was like a tight spring, ready to jump. And the expectation that this would happen was almost palpable.

More impressive still to Dean was the texture of the skin, under which one could see the veins and muscles. The statue looked alive. It was as if, when touched, although made of cold stone, it could transmit the warmth of a human body. When he turned to make a comment to Cas, he realized that he was totally engrossed in contemplation, as he had warned him before. His eyes traced the planes of David's body, fixed themselves on his serious face, ran down his back and down his legs as he walked slowly around the sculpture.

Dean followed, not taking his eyes off him. Each one of them appreciated a different beauty, although composed by the same elements.

A few minutes later, awakening from his artistic reverie, Castiel looked at him. And Dean was sure that Castiel finally saw him. It was as if the other could glimpse his soul.

Castiel's face lit up for a moment, his head tilted to one side, slightly. It was as if the realization of something hitherto inscrutable had descended upon him.

 His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Dean, very aware of the moment they had experienced, touched him on the back of his hand, bringing him back into the crowded room of the museum.

Castiel blinked and smiled, not yet completely recovered from what had happened just a  moment before. In a soft voice, he said:

"I’m glad I warned you something like that would happen. "

Dean realized the subterfuge immediately. He couldn’t or didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. Not there. Not now.

"I think you promised me some ice cream?" He asked, trying to be as mundane as possible under the circumstances.

Castiel let out a nervous laugh and looked to the ground. When he looked at Dean again, a softness had been fixed on his features.

"Ice cream, then," he said, taking Dean by the arm and walking toward the exit.


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting under one of the arches of the Ponte Vecchio, they admired the late afternoon sun shining on the waters of the Arno, while they tasted the ice cream Castiel had chosen for them.

Dean groaned at the almost divine taste of _'gelato fiorentino'_. He didn’t know before that it was famous internationally, but now he could understand why. The sounds coming from Dean’s lips were almost erotic, and Castiel looked around when a lady in a flowery dress cleared her throat audibly toward him.

Dean laughed at the embarrassment he had caused his friend. Some things never changed.

"Thanks, Cas," he said simply.

"No, thank you, Dean," he replied, his deep voice reverberating into the freckled man's chest.

*****

The return to Castiel’s home was done practically in silence, both tired by the activities of the day.

Dean didn’t know how much longer he would stay there. I hadn’t planned a long stay and couldn’t overstay his friend's hospitality. He was in the middle of an academic work that demanded his complete attention. He hadn’t come here to... _After all, why did he come here?_ He thought in anguish.

He volunteered to make dinner. He had some culinary skills, learned from his mother, and perhaps Cas enjoyed a taste closer to home. They stopped at a market on the way, Dean picking the ingredients with the help of his friend who was fluent in the language.

When they arrived, they left the goods on the kitchen table and Cas went up for a few moments. Dean was going to make burgers, even if his friend only had an electric grill. He had shaken his head, disgusted when he saw the device – to his friend's amusement - but there was nothing to be done. On his return, he found Dean with a dishcloth wrapped around his waist, like an apron. Cas couldn’t help but smile.

"What? Never heard of an apron? Since I didn’t find any, I had to improvise... I have only a few clothes and I shouldn’t get them dirty, you know. "

"I think we're almost the same size, if you need some clothes, I'll be happy to lend you, just like old times."

"Yeah, good old times..." he began, his hands pulling the ground beef out of the carton. If he had to, he was willing to take the loan, he thought with a shiver down his spine.

*****

Dinner was delicious because Dean had become a good cook. It was a task that pleased him, especially when it made him get some enthusiastic praise from Castiel.

Still sitting at the table, they talked about the walk they had done that day, Dean expressing all gratitude for Castiel being his guide even if he had a lot to do.

Castiel replied that it had been a pleasure, that he could have a new perception of many things through the interested presence of his friend.

They finally got up, picked up the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen in perfect harmony. It was late and they decided going to sleep.

They climbed the stairs side by side, in comfortable silence.

When they reached the landing, Dean could no longer control himself. Cas' presence was intoxicating. He pushed him lightly against the wall and their lips touched. Gently. After the first few seconds of surprise, Castiel began to respond, parting his lips so that Dean's tongue could find his. One of Dean’s hands touched Cas' solid hips, while the other caressed the back of his neck softly. Castiel lifted his arms a little to hold Dean's waist, pulling him closer.

When they parted, both their hearts racing, their eyes met. Castiel realized what they were doing and the hands that pulled Dean toward him suddenly shoved him away.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and his mouth opened without a sound. That kiss had been one of the best of his life and Castiel was pushing him away. He couldn’t understand.

"I don’t know... what you expected, Dean." He started down the steps, the fury perceptible on his face. "I thought we were friends."

"Cas, wait, we need to talk..."

"No, Dean, not now. I'll be back later! "He left, slamming the door hard.

Dean sat on the steps, feeling down. He didn’t understand... Castiel seemed to have thought that he had taken advantage of his weakness. That wasn’t his intention. He would never do anything to hurt Cas. But his friend didn’t seem to remember that. Or the world had made him think so. He had to explain, he had to make Cas understand how much he missed him.

He got up and walked on the landing for a few minutes, running his fingers nervously through his hair. When he realized that Castiel wouldn’t be back so soon, he entered the room he was occupying, defeated. He packed his bag, thinking of leaving immediately. He wasn’t going to impose his presence on that house for another day.

He took the bag, the jacket and the keys of the rental car, and went downstairs. He thought for a second and put the bag next to the sofa. He sat down, determined to wait and say goodbye. He couldn’t  be that ungrateful to leave without thanking Cas.

When he heard the key turn in the lock, he raised his head from his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

Castiel came in and looked at him. His eyes went down to the bag and back to Dean's face.

"Are you leaving?" That was all he could say, his voice unsteady.              

"I guess I'm no longer welcome here, so I thought I'd leave you alone. I just wanted to say thank you and goodbye." Dean said, standing up.

"Wait... I think we should talk."

"Are you sure?"

He walked over to sit in front of Dean in the armchair. He was nervous and didn’t seem to know how to begin. After a few moments, he asked in a low voice:

"Why did you do that?"

"The kiss? I... I've wanted to kiss you since I got here, Cas. "

"I don’t understand..."

"Let us say that ... before coming here, to your house ... things happened that made me believe that... when we were kids, I was ..." How difficult it was saying that, he thought: "the guy you were attracted to. "

Castiel lowered his face, staring at the hands he had on his thighs.

“I don’t understand... Why are you here, Dean? Why did you come looking for me? If you thought about experimenting with another man just because you know I'm gay... "

"No, Cas, I didn’t come for anything like that. I would never do that to you. Besides... I've been with men before."

"Have you? I thought you liked women... " he asked, intrigued.

"Well, yes... but that doesn’t stop me from being attracted to men as well. I'm what they call... "

"Bisexual, I know." He looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "When did you find out?"

"In college, about two years after you came to Italy. A classmate kissed me at a party and it opened my eyes. I had some relationships with guys. As much as with girls. "

Castiel was having trouble processing everything he heard from Dean. If he'd been around longer maybe they would... But life had made them take different paths. Even if they were both there at that moment.

"You said you were engaged and you were getting married. Why did you break the engagement if I may ask? "

"You can ask whatever you want. I remember we didn’t have secrets. "

"Well, I wasn’t completely honest with you. I don’t think I deserve this honesty policy... "

"I understand why you didn’t tell me anything at the time. I don’t know how I would have reacted if you had told me... But now I know and I have no problem with that. I broke my engagement because she deserved a man with both feet in that relationship. As much as I loved her, I always had doubts. "

“What kind of doubt?"

"I knew there was a loose end to my life and that as long as I didn’t explore that feeling, I could never be sure of anything."

Castiel was afraid to ask what ‘loose end’ was that. He took a deep breath, before looking into Dean’s face where his green eyes sparkled at him.

"Am I your... loose end, Dean?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, Cas... I think so..." he replied, not knowing what to do with his hands. "Tell me that I can try to know you again. Let me know the man that boy has become. "

His reply was a moment of silence. They sat there, face to face, the room filled with anxiety.

"I have to be honest, when you got here, Dean... I almost fell into despair. It's been so long since I've struggled to forget... I've tried to keep living without thinking about the family I left behind. Without thinking... about you. "

Dean listened to those confidences with a heavy heart.

Cas closed his eyes and stood up, taking a few steps toward the window. When he turned, he said, his voice steady but gentle:

"How can we know that what we seek is not... An illusion caused by distance? A sense of nostalgia for our teenage years? "

"I’m not looking for the kid, Cas. I came after the man. The one I could glimpse in these last few days. " He smiled. "And I like what I saw... You’re not the same, but you are the evolution of that clever, kind, thoughtful boy. My best friend still lives in you... Even if he is the result of so many other life choices. "

Castiel blushed. He turned to the window again before continuing:

"I don’t know, Dean, if I can live up to your expectations... Your idealization of me..."

"Yes, I know. But I think we have to give ourselves a chance to find out who we really are. Do you think... we could try? "

"I don’t know ... How would we do it?"

"Talking. Being close again. Being honest with each other, I guess. "

Castiel smiled. Dean was still the assertive, brave person he'd always been. Honest. Direct. He hadn’t changed that much.

"You... are you really willing to know _this Cas_ , Dean?" He asked simply, pointing a thumb to his own chest.

"Yes. If you’d like me to. If you want to try to know me again, reconnect with me, I'm here. "

Cas returned to the chair and sat down again.

"Yes, Dean, I’ll take this chance. I would like to know you again. "

They stayed in that room for hours, talking about their families, work, Cas' studies.They discussed books and movies, talked about what they did for fun. Both were meant to be honest and direct. Deliberately they didn’t talked about relationships, since it seemed obvious from both sides that there was no one in their lives at that moment.

After a while Castiel slipped to the floor, sitting on the rug and stretching his legs under the coffee table. Dean, taking advantage of the cue, leaned back on the couch, resting his head on a pillow.

As the sun came back for another day, Castiel stood up and stretched out to look out the window again. He said something about having talked all night, but Dean didn’t answer. Looking at him, he noticed that he was asleep.

Castiel smiled and approached. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and took off his shoes. He took the blanket from the backrest and covered Dean carefully. Seeing the old friend's relaxed face, he felt everything he had been trying not to feel for the last fourteen years.

He walked toward the stairs, to go get some sleep in his own room. When he was on the first step, he turned, remembering something. He went back into the living room and took Dean's bag upstairs.


	11. Chapter 11

When Dean woke up, he was surprised to be sleeping on the couch. It was day and he was covered by a blanket. There was no sign of Castiel.

He rose, massaging his aching neck and called for his friend.

There was no response.

He leaned to retrieve his bag and go upstairs, but it was no longer where it had been left. He smiled, realizing that Cas must have taken it, accepting that he would stay for a few more days.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he headed for the bathroom, but he couldn’t help himself looking through the half-open door of the master bedroom. Cas was asleep, serene, one leg slipping out of bed.

Dean was struck by the sight of that small stretch of bare skin in a way he'd never had a chance to feel before. Although nothing else was on display, besides the face, what was exposed was a sample of what the sheet hid. He felt completely helpless; his body shook by a deep desire. If at any moment before that he had had doubts about his attraction or his feeling for his old friend, that sensation would have ended them.

But he had no doubt that it would be so. He smiled again, feeling much happier than he had been in a long time.

*****

When Castiel woke up and went downstairs, he found coffee on the table, even though it was almost noon. There was no sign of Dean in the house and he was surprised. He began to drink a cup of the fragrant drink when the door opened and Dean came in, carrying some shopping bags.

"Good morning, Cas. Did you sleep well? "He asked, joy showing in his features and gestures.

"Yes, Dean. Where did you go so... I was going to say _so early_ , but... "

"I went to buy some fresh bread and some fruit. Healthy eating, I paid attention. "

Castiel laughed softly and took two of the apples Dean had just put in the fruit bowl. He washed them and handed him one. Dean was putting the groceries in the kitchen cabinets. He has been there only few days and he already knew where things were kept. That knowledge warmed Castiel inside.

As they ate the juicy apples, Castiel told him he had a meeting that afternoon with his thesis advisor. He was sorry, but he had to go.

"No problem. I'll find some way to entertain myself, don’t worry. "

"Um, now I am worried!" He teased.

"Man of little faith ..." Dean said. He had already made some plans and it was time to put them into practice.

*****

Dean came in carrying a box, whistling a melody he had remembered that day, an old Kansas song.

He looked around the room and only then realized that there was no TV there. He moaned softly, watching his secret plan fall apart. They had done several things and talked so much that he hadn’t missed the TV. There are much more interesting things to do here, he thought, smiling.

There was still a possibility. He climbed the stairs two at a time. He opened Castiel's bedroom door and stepped cautiously inside. He didn’t intend to enter there uninvited, but in the circumstance he hoped Cas would not be too angry. There was a television there and he sighed, relieved.

He deliberated for a moment. Should he do it there or in the living room? There were good points for both choices, but he didn’t want to risk anything. He unplugged the unit and brought it downstairs.

He pushed the coffee table against one of the bookshelves and put the TV on it. Opening the box, he pulled out a video game console, which he connected to the TV he had brought from his friend's room. From another bag he removed some game titles that had been indicated by the clerk. He hadn’t played in a long time, but he thought it would be a good way to recapture something of their former complicity.

An hour later, when Castiel returned to the house, elegant in his navy blue blazer and thin-striped tie, he found Dean entertained in a racing game. He burst into laughter and didn’t look angry at all that Dean had tampered with his television. He loosened his tie, sat down on the couch, and gripped the other control.

*****

They stopped for dinner after some time, since they haven’t had lunch properly. Dean invited him to dine at that restaurant where they had eaten on the first day.

This time, Dean was more comfortable, smiling at the young waitress and risking a " _Buona sera, signorina",_ which Castiel taught him on the way.

Castiel felt that the baggage of the years that they lived away from each other seemed to fade away, leaving, in essence, the people they had always been.

They returned to the house, walking and talking, slightly inebriated by the wine that had accompanied the meal. There was a camaraderie in the air that neither of them had lived since the separation.

When they arrived, Dean challenged him to another match, but Castiel said he needed to work on the thesis a bit, as they would soon schedule its presentation. Not wanting to be in the way, he apologized and went to bed, but his mind buzzed slightly, still more intoxicated by Castiel's presence than by the wine.

*****

Dean had had trouble sleeping the night before, increasingly disturbed by his friend's appealing presence. He had been making elaborate mental scenarios to finally declare his feelings, hoping to do it the right way and not ruin everything they had built so far. And the more he thought, the more he despaired, because he felt utterly unfit for the task.

He had always been confident in relationships, usually the one who took the initiatives and he felt the need to act. But what if Cas was not ready? Had he been reconsidering the chance he'd given Dean? He doubted himself.

As he left the room, his face showing all the weariness and lack of sleep, he almost ran into the object of his interest, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips and damp hair.

"Sorry, Dean," Cas said in an embarrassed tone as he held him by the shoulders and avoided physical contact.

He definitely felt awkwardness in the air, and that just put his immediate plans on hold.

*****

Castiel had worked all morning on his thesis. Dean tried to be quiet, avoiding any noise that might distract him, but that was making him uneasy.

He said goodbye and left, ready to distract his mind with a walk through the neighborhood. He didn’t have many options since he didn’t speak Italian, having forgotten all that Cas had taught him in the past by absolute lack of use.

His feet carried him to the well-known restaurant and he decided to bring lunch to his friend who was too busy to worry about food.

He entered and soon saw Margherita, whom he addressed again with "Buona sera, signorina." She laughed and replied:

"It's a little early for that, _signore_ ," in English.

Dean laughed, relieved that ordering the dishes would be much easier this way.

"Castiel is not coming today?" She asked interestedly.

"Oh, no, he's busy. I want to bring him lunch. What would you recommend? "

"He really appreciates the risotto. And for you, sir?"

"I'm Dean. I'll have the same. Two servings then. And meat, the one we had the other night was very good."

"Dessert? We have tiramisu today. "

"Is it good?"

"Well, it's quite appreciated. Castiel likes it very much. "

"For two, then." He said with a smile.

He sat down to wait at a table and noticed that he was the only one there at that time. It must be very early. Margherita returned from the kitchen and offered him a glass of water, but didn’t leave immediately. She seemed to want to keep talking.

"Sorry ... Dean? Can I ask you a question... if it is not inappropriate? "

"No problem."

"Castiel... is he okay?"

"Okay? What do you mean?"

"He looks different in the last few days. My father and I really like him, he's a good person, but he always looked sad. "

"Sad?"

"Yes, always alone. But now that you've arrived, he looks different."

"We are childhood friends. I came to visit him after fourteen years. "

"He should miss you, then. We've never seen him so happy... "

Dean smiled and thought for a moment that it would be great if that was true.

Soon the young woman brought their meals in a brown paper bag.

When Dean returned to the gray house, he was surprised to find in the bag two round candies wrapped in silver paper with blue stars .

He took one in his fingers and read the label, in his terrible accent:

"Ba-ci-o?"

Castiel laughed softly.

"No, Dean, _bacio_. It means 'kiss’."

Dean narrowed his eyes. Was the girl in the restaurant trying to play cupid? Well, he would use whatever help he could.

" _Bacio_ ," he repeated smiling.


	12. Chapter 12

They had lunch and Dean cleaned the kitchen, letting his friend work a little more without being disturbed by those small tasks.

When he came to the door of the living room, he found Castiel standing up as he closed the laptop. He lifted his arms and stretched, the tension of so many hours sitting in front of the computer making itself known.

Dean thought Cas haven’t run for the last few days. He didn’t ask anything about this routine, but he realized that he could be the cause of the interruption. Before he could question him on the subject, Castiel put the computer on a shelf and picked up one of the game controls.

"Want to play? A rematch of that fighting game, perhaps? "

It was a challenge he accepted cheerfully. He took the other control and sat down next to him. Cas had always been good at that kind of game.

They sat very close, the concentration on the movements of the characters of the game very intense. Dean had started winning, but before long he seemed destined to lose. Remembering old times, he had an idea. When Cas was at his most focused point, he lifted his elbow a little and struck him lightly on the ribs, distracting him for a moment.

"Hey! Don’t cheat! "

Dean had laughed and took advantage of the situation, earning some very valuable points. He focused his attention on controls and strategy, determined to win.

When he was ready to strike, he felt a hand, hot and steady, that slid suggestively up his thigh.

His mouth went immediately dry, his throat closed, and he could only gasp, lowering his guard for a second, with Castiel delivering the final blow, ending the battle with a cry of victory.

When he turned to his opponent, ready to protest the use of the malicious maneuver, he found his blue eyes very close. They turned, staring at Dean's parted lips. His mouth also opened and his tongue slid over his lower lip before finding the one that belonged to his old friend.

It was a warm, wet kiss, interspersed with soft moans. In seconds Dean was lying on the couch, Castiel leaning on him, one of his knees diving between the younger man's thighs.

They had gone from zero to a thousand in a short time, the excitement of both of them impossible to conceal. The narrow couch didn’t give them much room to maneuver, but the thrill of finally kissing that way seemed to make nothing else matter. Until Dean slipped from the couch to the carpet, falling with a dry thud.

"I knew I should have installed the video game in your room ..." He said, laughing, while the other lay on top of him on the floor, restarting the activity that had been abruptly cut off by the fall.

Although he didn't want to ruin the moment, when Cas began to pull his shirt up, to kiss his chest, Dean had to protest. He had already gone through it and didn't want it to happen again.

"Cas... rugburn... not here..." he muttered, between one kiss and another.

In moments, Castiel was standing, holding out his hand to help him up. The intense look on his face, his eyes too dark, gave Dean no choice but to stand as fast as he could.

Embraced, amid kisses and caresses, they climbed the stairs as fast as they could, until they found themselves in the bedroom. Dean was thrown against the mattress and the smile on his face had an identical counterpart on Cas’ face. All the anxiety he'd felt as he tried to reach him was gone. If he knew it would be so natural, he wouldn’t have worried so much.

Cas set out to undress him, tracing lines on the revealed skin with his tongue and lips. Dean returned with affectionate touches and words of encouragement that left no doubt about what he wanted.

His body moved in a frantic rhythm, desire too great, too deep, hidden for too long.

Castiel stepped away for a moment to undress and nestled again in the arms of his friend, the confidant, the person he loved most in his life.

When he finally found himself completely involved by the scorching heat of Dean's body, he could only open his lips and utter the statement he had kept secret for so many years:

"Dean... I love you."

At the whispered words, Dean’s body was hit by a spasm of pleasure. He had reached the climax on the feeling Cas had revealed to him. The reactions of his own body caused the other to accompany him, moaning in his arms.

As the two of them lay side by side, breathing more quietly, their hands still stroking the expanses of bare skin, Dean lifted Castiel's chin, kissed his lips sweetly and returned the affection:

"I love you too, Cas..."

Castiel closed his eyes and smiled. It was as if more than a decade had not passed and he was home again.

_Dean._

Dean was his family, his home.

*****

They didn’t want to think of anything more than being there together. They lay in bed for hours, talking, laughing, cuddling. It was night when they finally awoke from their deep sleep, still holding each other.

Cas opened his eyes as Dean tried to move.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Dean said.

Castiel laughed, releasing him immediately:

"Don’t let me keep you here, then."

"I'll be right back... don’t go anywhere."

"I don’t think about it."

Dean smiled and left the room. Cas heard him come out of the bathroom and go downstairs quickly. He came back, the candy Margherita had sent them in one hand.

"Aren’t you hungry?" He asked.

"I'm too lazy to get out of here, even more so now that you’re back ..." he said, resting his hand on Dean's bare hip.

Dean unwrapped one of the chocolates and a translucent piece of paper fell on the sheet. He offered the candy to Cas, before picking it up and looking at it with interest.

There was a phrase written there, translated into five languages: _‘Nella vita l’amico é come acqua nel deserto’_   (In life, a friend is like water in the desert.) He read it loudly, sharing the quote with the man lying next to him.

Leaning, he kissed his lips and said:

"Thank you for always having quenched my thirst, Cas."

Castiel smiled and it was his turn to unwrap the little chocolate.

 _“E_ _ravamo insieme._ _Tutto il resto l'ho scordato._ _”_ (We were together, I forgot the rest.*) He read it with an emotional intonation.

Dean hugged him, involving him with all his feeling, the time they had been apart dissolving like chocolate on their lips.

 

*Walt Whitman


	13. Chapter 13

The night was a discovery, for what they learned was new to both of them. It had happened easily and the free expression of their deepest feelings was a consequence of a history lived together and the confidence they had in each other. Everything had been permeated with a lightness and humor that neither of them had been able to experience before in other relationships.

Castiel smiled as Dean kissed and traced the muscles of his thighs with his lips for the umpteenth time.

"You like my legs, apparently."

"Among other things," he said, assigning a kiss to a part of the anatomy that lay between his thighs.

"Dean..." he moaned, closing his eyes.

"How did you get so muscular? You've never been a fan of exercising... "

" _Mm_ ... I started a few years ago, a college friend used to run and he encouraged me. And now I have those strong thighs that you can revere as much as you like... "

"It’s my pleasure..." He left a few more kisses on his skin. "You haven’t run these past days... You have to resume your routine..."

"You could... _mmmmm_ ... go with me ... tomorrow ... if you want."

"See these beauties in action? Of course!"

"Less talk, Winchester! More ... action, please... "

"Can you repeat the _'please'_ part? I really like hearing you beg... " he said, smiling.

Cas had no choice but to obey.

*****

Castiel came down the stairs humming happily. Dean's visit was becoming one of the best experiences of his life, if not the best.

He looked up and called:

 "Dean! Let's go? Later It’s going to be too hot!"

He wore navy shorts and a gray t-shirt. Moments later Dean came downstairs, well aware that Castiel's borrowed clothes were quite tight on him and therefore very revealing. His annoying abdomen was his biggest concern, even if he was far from having what anyone would call a tummy.

A whistle came from the ground floor. Dean's ears burned for a moment, but he quickly composed himself.

He approached Castiel and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. In a matter of seconds, however, the older man was pressed against the door, having been turned by the strong hands of the tallest.

Against the hard wood and with a solid body behind him, the air was expelled from his lungs in a single blow.

"Dean ..." he said, his voice strangled.

"Mmmm, could we stay here a little longer, Cas?" Dean whispered suggestively to his ear as his hips moved slowly.

The temptation was too great, but if so, they would never leave the house again.

"No, Dean. Let's run" Castiel said, trying to sound firm and determined, but his resolve was failing at that very moment. "My thighs, remember? Big and strong, the way you like them? "

Reluctantly, with one last light press of his body, Dean pulled away.

"Right. Priorities!"

As Dean's warmth drifted away, Castiel regretted it. He was going to have to compensate him for it... That was not a problem at all, he thought, feeling happy.

*****

Dean had struggled to keep pace with Cas, for Cas’ amusement. Dean had bent down as soon as they had stepped inside, resting his hands on his knees, his head hanging forward. He was also panting hard. The more athletic of the two needed to give the other the chance to recover, then Cas pulled Dean toward the kitchen.

They drank water and breathed for a few minutes before, with identical smiles, they went back into each other's arms, not caring if they were sweaty. Castiel pushed Dean against the counter and pressed him there with the weight of his whole body, prompting murmurs of appreciation from the other man.

His kisses were something in themselves, Dean thought. Castiel was kissing with such dedication and feeling that he never wanted to leave the tight circle of his arms.

When he finally pulled back a little and knelt down in front of him, his fingers trailing lightly down his legs, Dean thought he wouldn’t like to live apart from Cas anymore.

*****

The intimate moments spent in the kitchen were followed by a quick shower, a hearty breakfast, and a couple of video game matches, as Dean said he felt hurt by the outcome of the last virtual battle between them. Intimately he knew that no one in that house had lost, when everything after that had been so sexy and... romantic. He hardly thought in these terms, but his relationship with Cas seemed to cover every aspect of his life: friendship, companionship... love. It was hard for him to admit it, but he was completely in love.

He was certain, then, that his decisions, first with respect to Lisa and then to Castiel, had been settled. He felt good as never before.

He wanted nothing more than to live the present and let things take their inevitable course to full development. He knew, deep down in his chest, that they were destined to grow old together, experiencing all stages of life as partners. But knowing that they now lived more than ten thousand miles apart, his happiness shrank a little.

What would it be like if he moved here? He had a career in Los Angeles, a good job, and a house. A cold, lonely place but still a good house. And it would not be so cold anymore if Castiel moved in with him. However his friend had a life there, he had possibilities of work and academic development.

Those inopportune thoughts were hampering his performance in the game. He tried to focus on what they were doing, but he was sure that Castiel knew of his lucubration. He didn’t say anything, however, perhaps afraid to break the perfect moment with words.

*****

Castiel had plans. Or rather, he had had plans. They included staying in Italy, starting a doctorate and getting a teaching position at some university. He had taught and, although he loved expressing himself artistically, he knew that his true vocation was teaching and research.

He couldn’t complain about his friend's visit when he had brought him what he had wanted most in life. But if he thought it over, the situation got complicated. He didn’t want to let Dean go. And he couldn’t go anywhere yet, while the presentation of his thesis was pending.

Dean's life was in America, his job, the family. Soon he would have a niece.

Castiel had only one thought: they should be together. They seemed to have been meant to be together. How would they solve this?

And neither wanted to touch the subject, he realized. The routine they had established that week and a half since Dean had arrived was an artificial situation, where the two had practically shut themselves out of the world, living only in the present.

They needed to discuss it. Cas had even decided to begin, opening his mouth to expose his thoughts as Dean's lips captured his in a kiss. Well, they would have to talk about it later.

*****

Marghe greeted them happily as they entered the restaurant. She lead them to the table which they began to call their own.

As she wrote down his orders, her hazel eyes alternated discreetly between one and the other. Before she could move away, Dean called her and said:

 _"Grazie per i ciocolatini."_ (Thanks for the candy.) His fingers slid over the tablecloth and rested on top of Castiel's hand.

The girl blushed a little. She shook her head, smiling. When she moved away, she turned back to them and winked.

*****

The chords of "Highway to Hell" woke them up very early the next morning. Castiel hid his head under the pillow as Dean reached for his cell phone that must have fallen to the floor sometime during his nighttime activities.

Searching under the bed, his fingers found the offending object and he silenced it with a hoarse "Hello."

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded strained.

"Hi, Sammy... do you have any idea what time it is here in Florence?"

"Sorry, I..." and a muffled sob was what followed.

"Sam? SAM! "

Castiel sat, his brow furrowed.

"I'm here, Dean, sorry... it's just... I'm not sure why I'm calling... you're so far away..."

"What's it? Something wrong with Mom? Madison? "He asked anxiously.

 "Madison ... she ... is hospitalized. There were complications" he replied, his voice choked.

“The baby...? Is she..."

"We don’t know yet... But I can lose both, Dean. What am I going to do without them? I can’t live without Madison... I can’t... "

"You're not going to live without her, Sam. Everything is going to be fine. Try to remain calm."

"Sorry I called you. But... I needed to talk to someone. I can’t show weakness in front of Madison and our mother... I just wished you could be here... I needed to talk to you. "

With a gentle look, Castiel rested his hand on Dean's knee, for the conversation had been entirely audible, and he hadn’t been able to move away from his friend in that grave moment. Dean had to leave, ahead of schedule, to take care of his family.

*****

In a few minutes, they scheduled the flights. There would be a two and a half hour wait in London from Rome, but there was no other flight Dean could take. He would be home only very late the next day.

Castiel bought tickets for himself to London as well. He wanted to go with Dean as far as he could, he needed his support. Then Cas would return home and finish his academic project. So he could think of the future.

When they closed the door on the way out, Dean looked at Castiel. He feared it was the last moment they would have in the privacy of the cozy home where they had finally been able to express their feelings. He was going to miss those days, he was sure.

Cas brought him close, stroking his hair, wishing he could never let Dean go. He moved away, after a few moments, and pulled him by the hand toward the street. They couldn’t change what would come.


	14. Chapter 14

When the plane landed in Los Angeles, Dean was ready to collapse. The flight from London had been quiet, but he was really starting to feel Castiel's absence. They had gone together to the British capital and he had stayed by his side until boarding time. Though simple, their farewell had been emotional. A tight hug and a few whispered words. No kisses or big statements, but in its delicacy had been enough. Cas's words still echoed in his ears:

"I love you, Dean. Never forget that. Never."

He had wanted to stay there forever, in the loving warmth of his childhood friend turned to lover.

When he landed, he took his small luggage and headed home. He planned on taking a shower, getting some clean clothes and leaving for his mother's house. It was a five hours drive. It was insane to drive in the state of exhaustion he was in, but he needed to see the family as soon as possible.

Dean’s house, well furnished and comfortable, seemed even colder than usual. He felt the need for warmth. And the person he needed the most was on the other side of the Atlantic. If he was calculating well, it was the early hours of the morning there, so he couldn’t call yet to say that he had arrived well. He would wait until he was in his hometown. They had switched phones and email addresses, trying to lessen the sense of distance, promising to keep in touch as much as possible.

He went upstairs, put his bag on the bed so he could empty it, throwing all the dirty clothes in the hamper. As he picked up the stacks of hurriedly folded clothes, his eyes fell on a familiar object that should not be there.

In the bottom, under the t-shirts and jeans, Dean found the sketchbook Balthazar had given him.

Castiel had never mentioned it, not once, but he must have realized that Dean had seen him and knew what it meant. And he seemed to have decided it belonged to Dean.

He pushed the bag to the side and sat on the bed, the notebook open on his thighs. He flipped through it quickly, looking again at the familiar portraits. When he reached the last of them he was surprised to see, on the next page, that he had been blank two weeks before, a new representation of his face. A serious expression, his eyes denoting apprehension. It was the first impression Cas had had of him when he arrived in Florence.

His eyes filled with tears as he remembered the moment when everything had changed between them.

He turned another page and saw himself again, this time smiling, the corners of his eyes creased by little wrinkles, which had been absent from the initial portraits. Freckles, he thought, smiling, always too many freckles.

The images continued. In one of the pictures he was asleep on the couch the night of their honest conversation. The two playing video game, Cas staring at him in shock as Dean’s elbow hit him in the ribs. And the last ... Dean, depicted with his bare torso, head thrown back, lips parted in a sigh of pleasure.

Dean gasped, breathing heavily. That portrait... It was as if his soul was expressed there, at the his most intimate moment with Castiel.

No longer holding back, he let the tears of longing run down his face. He closed the sketchbook and decided to take it with him wherever he went, a palpable proof of what he and Cas had.

He threw a few pieces of clean clothing back into the bag and deposited the sketchbook on top of everything.

He took the car keys and left.

*****

The light of day started to fade on the practically deserted road that led to Kingman, Arizona.

A cell phone started ringing. An unusual song for those parts. The singer sang in Italian:

_“E mangio pane/Pane e sale/E il cielo piove gi/Con lacrime d'alto mare/Acqua che non si ferma più/Ma salgo ancora/Nuove scale/E vedo ancora più in la/La luce chiara di domani/Precipitando/Esplode già...”*_

The driver should have picked up to the first chords, which was the song that identified his lover who was so far, in another continent.

But he couldn’t do it. The car was at the side of the road. The wheels turned toward the late afternoon sky.

Tied by his seatbelt, the driver hung over the ceiling that was in contact with the stony floor, blood dripping slowly from a wound in his forehead.

Bright lights came closer, the sound of the ambulance muffling the love song that kept playing in the background.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "And I eat bread/Bread and salt/And it’s already raining/high sea tears/ Water that doesn’t stop/But I still climb/New stairs/And I see even more in the distance/ the bright light of tomorrow/Precipitating /it explodes… "
> 
> [Zucchero Pane e Sale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=He9LKgLG-Cg=)


	15. Chapter 15

_"Hello? Dean? "_ Castiel's anxious voice said, relieved that Dean had answered at last. He had been calling for the last few hours without success.

"Cas? It's Sam, "he replied, his voice betraying his anxiety.

_"Hi, Sam ... Sorry, but this is not ... Dean's phone? I've been calling... "_

"Take it easy, please... He had an accident. He's in the hospital. "

 _"What?"_ He stammered, choking.

"He slept while driving, it seems. Whoever rescued him said he flipped off the road and there was no one else around for miles. "

 _"Is he okay? Please tell me it was nothing serious ... "_ The emotion was impossible to hide.

"He's unconscious, he's lost some blood... But it's too soon to say anything."

 _"Oh, God ..."_ Castiel silently cursed the moment he let Dean go.

Sam cleared his throat before continuing.

 "I'll keep his cell phone. If you want to call me, feel free. Any development, I'll let you know, right? "

_"Please, Sam ... He can’t... not now."_

"He'll be fine, Cas. I believe that. "

Castiel suddenly remembered the reason Dean had left to abruptly:

_"He was in a hurry to get there because of your wife ... She and the baby ...?"_

"They’re fine. Madison had an emergency c-section. Emily has to stay in the hospital for a little while because she is premature. Thanks for asking."

_"I'm glad you're all right... Please, Sam, whatever happens, I need to know."_

"I’ll call you, Cas. It was nice talking to you, despite the circumstances. Please, don’t lose hope, okay? "


	16. Chapter 16

Before Castiel could think clearly, he was on a Rome - Phoenix flight.

He didn’t tell anyone he would take a trip, having just packed his suitcase in a hurry and left.

During the flight he kept his cell phone on, hoping Sam would call.

Upon landing in Arizona, he sought transportation to Kingman. He realized, then, that the phone's battery was running low. He prayed that no call was made until he could get there.

*****

When Castiel finally got to the city in which he was raised, he found himself in a dilemma. He thought about going to the Winchesters', but Mary and Sam were supposed to be in the hospital.

He took a cab and asked to be taken to Kingman Community Hospital, Kingman's largest health facility.

Stepping on the sidewalk in front of the low brick-paved building, his legs refused to obey and he couldn’t move. He needed to come in and see what had happened, but his worst fears haunted him.

He took a deep breath and walked to the front desk, where he asked about Dean Winchester.

When asked about his degree of kinship with the patient, Castiel had nothing more to say than 'friend'. The nurse must have noticed his despair, for he asked him to stay there while she went to call one of the family members.

Minutes seemed to drag on for hours, and after a while he saw Sam coming down the hall. He had become a tall, stout man. Castiel smiled, despite how anguished he felt.

"Hi, Cas. We didn’t expect to see you here" Sam said, holding out his hand.

"Hello, Sam. How is Dean? "

"He spent the night in the intensive care unit and if all goes well he will be transferred to a room today. We’re praying."

Sam put his hand on Cas’ shoulder and made him walk beside him. In a waiting room they met Mary, her face down. When she saw Castiel, she got up and came towards him, crying:

"Castiel!" He said, hugging him tightly, sobbing. Castiel returned the gesture, feeling closer to Dean in his mother's arms.

She pulled back a little and took him by the hand. She sat down next to him in one of the green chairs. Sam excused himself and went to fetch coffee for them.

Mary ran her fingers over the handsome face she hadn’t seen in years. Then she said softly:

"He's stable, Castiel. He will probably be transferred to a room today, but he's still unconscious. "

Cas closed his eyes and let a tear fall.

Mary lifted his chin and made him look at her eyes.

"Faith, my son. I think he's going to be okay. "

The man who had just crossed the ocean, leaned against the wall, tired and sad.

*****

As they waited, Mary wanted to know more about Castiel's life. He told her about his studies, about his house in Italy, the places he had known. The story  ended with Dean's visit. He deliberately omitted any more personal detail. He didn’t know if his friend had told anyone what had happened between them. He preferred to leave this decision for the moment Dean could have a say in the matter.

After a while, she glanced at her wristwatch, got up, and asked him to accompany her. They walked side by side through the hallways until they reached Madison's room.

Castiel was introduced to her, a beautiful young brunette with large, dark eyes and a gentle smile, who squeezed his hand tightly. Madison had always been very curious about the old friend of her husband's family.

She spoke fondly of her newborn daughter, and Castiel longed to be able to stay and watch her grow up. He longed to live with the people he loved.

But it was too early to think about it.

*****

Cas was dozing in the waiting room chair when Mary's delicate hand touched his arm.

"Castiel... they're taking Dean to his room, come."

In a fraction of a second he was alert and standing. He walked, hopeful, beside the woman who had been more his mother than the woman who had given him birth.

They waited at the door, for the one of the nurses allow them to enter. When the nurse spoke to Mary, she questioned Castiel's presence.

She took his hand and said, vehemently:

"Castiel is Dean's husband."

Cas' eyes widened at the phrase, but he realized that it might just be a trick for him to be able to enter the room.

When the light-blue uniformed nurse nodded, saying they could come in, Castiel let out the breath he had been holding.

Mary smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"That way we avoid problems," he said simply.

The room was in quiet and Dean's limp body lay on the bed. His face was covered in bruises and his head wrapped in gauze. One arm was immobilized and he was connected to a heart monitor.

Castiel was trembling, but Mary's hand on his gave him the courage to approach.

She touched Dean's face, her fingertips running down his jaw. Cas could only look and remember everything they had said and done only a few days before. Without thinking, he took Dean’s hand and squeezed it. He tried not to cry, wanting to be strong like Mary.

They were still like that when Sam came in. He brought Dean's luggage that had been stored in his wife's room.

*****

Castiel didn’t leave the room, not even when Mary asked him to come home with her to rest for a while. He knew this behavior would generate speculation, but he couldn’t worry about that at the moment. He had to stay there until Dean opened his eyes.

At night, instead of lying on the couch, he would bring the chair closer to the bed and hold Dean's hand until sleep overcame him. He always woke up with his head close to the body of the man who was so dear to him.

Dean's progress was stable and the doctors were keeping him in an induced coma until the swelling caused by the blow to the head diminished. A few days had passed, when Sam finally persuaded Castiel to go out for a bit, eat something other than the unpalatable food from the hospital and get some fresh air. He left reluctantly, Mary replacing him, caressing Dean’s face.

Castiel debated internally whether to tell Sam. He felt he could burst if he didn’t speak to someone.

Sam made things easy by asking how his brother's stay at his home in Italy had been.

"I must tell you that I didn’t expect to see him after such a long time... But it was good... we were able to reconnect."

"I was surprised when my mother told me that he had gone to Europe for a convention. Especially when I learned that he had traveled to Italy to see you. "

"He can’t hide his fear of flying," he said, smiling, realizing too late the overly affectionate tone he had used. Sam had frowned for a second, but he had managed to pretend not noticing it.

"You know, Sam... When he arrived... I got scared."

"Scared? Of what? "He asked curiously.

"That... he would discover how I felt about him."

Sam said nothing, giving Castiel room to continue if he wanted to.

Casting his eyes down for a moment, he concluded:

"I've always loved him, Sam. But more than a friend, more than a... brother. "

"You mean, you loved _loved_ him?"

"Yes" he stated, looking at the green eyes that were so different from Dean's. "I always wanted something I thought I couldn’t have. I shouldn’t want him. You all did so much for me and me ... It would betray your family trust. "

Sam shook his head, expressing his disagreement.

"It's true, Sam. Your father... he didn’t deserve... Your mother, I thought she would understand, but I... and even about you, Sam, I had my doubts... "

"Cas, I ..."

"Let me finish, Sam. He got there and when I least expected we were kissing. I freaked out, but he asked for a chance to know me again, that he... thought he also felt something for me... Well, after a while, it was inevitable. We are together, or were, before all this happened... "

Sam put a hand on Castiel's shoulder in a gesture of support.

"I'm happy for you, Cas. He deserves someone sincere and loyal like you. I would never object to this, ever. You two have always been... very good to each other."

Cas shook his head, feeling a little relieved sharing his secret with someone.

"And when my mother learns about it, she’ll love it! She always said you were part of our family... "

"Please, don’t tell her yet. I don’t know how Dean had planned to tell you… let's hope he regains consciousness... "

"Okay then. It's between us for now. But I'm sure she'll really love to hear it. "

Sam's cell phone vibrated in her pocket, a text message coming in.

_"Dean woke up. Come."_

"Dean is awake, Cas. Let's go!"

Castiel was extremely anxious. The drive from the restaurant to the hospital seemed incredibly long.

When they reached the room, Sam knocked lightly on the door and looked inside. His mother motioned for him to enter, her face bathed in tears of joy. Dean was fine.

Sam came in and Dean greeted him cheerfully. A second later it was Castiel's turn and Dean's face changed from smiling to confused.

"Who is... _Cas? Castiel_?" Dean looked at his mother and brother interrogatively.

Castiel froze. Something was wrong.

"You came back from... Italy? When? "He asked, brow furrowed.

"He's been here for a few days, dear. He came to see you when you heard about the accident... "

Dean looked from one to the other, clearly not understanding what they were talking about.

_"What...?"_

The mother looked at him, finally realizing that Dean probably couldn’t remember the accident. She thought it best not to contradict him. A pointed look at Sam made him stand up, saying:

"Come on, Cas, I have to see Madison. She wants to see you too. Let's let Dean rest. "

As he left, devastated, Castiel heard Dean say:

"It was good seeing you again, Cas."

"I hope you get well soon, Dean."

Sam pulled him toward the doctor's office who was tending his brother. They needed to talk.

*****

Dean might be suffering from a temporary memory loss. Or maybe it was a _permanent_ memory loss, the doctor couldn’t tell. Dean had no recollection of the accident and of the immediately preceding period.

Dean’s family had to be patient and give him time to recover at his own pace.

Sam, who was aware of what had happened between Cas and Dean, thought of how difficult it must be for Castiel.

They thought it would be best if he didn’t spend the nights in the hospital anymore, as Dean seemed slightly alarmed in Cas’ presence. He felt confused and that was not good, the doctor said.

Mary then accompanied him home and showed him to Sam's old bedroom. Dean's bedroom wasn't an option at the time, though Cas’ old bed was still there. They were thinking of the day Dean would be discharged and would probably sleep there for a while.

It was up to him to spend the days and nights in that house he had loved so much, most of the time completely alone, remembering what they had shared in the few days before the accident.

Going back to Italy, at least for the moment, was out of the question. He had sent an email to the university reporting an accident in the family, requesting postponement of his presentation. The reply he received calmed him, since they were quite understanding and left the date open for further discussion when the situation was solved.

But what if Dean never recovered his memory? What if it was a permanent condition?

Castiel didn’t even want to think about it. His mind made a point of reminding him, however, that it was Dean who started all that by going to Italy after his past.  He could or could not come to remember all that. Perhaps something lingered in his mind. Or in his heart… That's probably why he seemed so agitated in Castiel's presence.

He would have to wait and see.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to finish the translation before Gishwhes starts tomorrow. There are probably a lot more mistakes than before but I don't want to keep my readers hanging...  
> Thanks for your understanding!

When Dean was brought home from the hospital, Castiel made a point of being scarce. He had been stalling a visit to his mother for days. Their relationship had been greatly affected by her husband's interference, and throughout his time in Italy they had exchanged only a few letters and phone calls.

Castiel felt extremely distant from her. Still, he arranged to meet her at lunch so he wouldn’t have to visit the house where the horrible Pastor Zachariah Adler lived. In his opinion there could be no one more distant from holiness than his mother’s husband.

He entered the restaurant and saw her, seated next to one of the windows, impeccable, as always in a gray suit and a white, starched shirt. Her hair, arranged in a severe bun, was as dark as the day he had left.

She saw him and smiled shyly, but her eyes revealed a renewed glow. He wondered if he should hug her, but before he could get to a conclusion, she had already wrapped him in his arms.

The conversation started strained, Naomi trying to keep the façade of strong woman she had always held, but after a few minutes, the mask fell. She wept and admitted that she had been a careless mother who had not cared enough for her two children. She missed him and Gabriel, with whom she hadn’t got in touch for many years. She regretted her past errors and even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, Castiel realized that she considered her second marriage a mistake.

After seeing her calm down a little, Castiel assured her that he wasn’t hurt, and that it was always possible for them to reconnect. He wanted it so.

She smiled and took his hand in excitement. She said she wanted that, to rekindle the connection she lost with her children.

Castiel hugged her again, promising to visit her again soon, feeling that all of that had been another consequence of Dean's attitude in looking for him. It made him feel even more grateful for Dean’s presence in his life.

And at the moment, it made him even sadder.

*****

Castiel told Mary about the meeting with his mother. She was glad to know that at last Naomi was reflecting on her mistakes and willing to correct them. She said that Cas should invite her to come and have tea with them, so they could also try to rekindle their friendship.

The blue-eyed man smiled. Again, that was another fact he should be grateful to Dean. He couldn’t believe that what happened between them would be lost, when so much positivity seemed to have been born of it.

But at dinnertime he felt his friend's eyes on him, discreetly, most of the time, but not in the way he had imagined. Dean seemed on guard, as if policing what he said all the time.

Mary was clearly suffering from the situation. She wanted Cas in her house, but she felt that his presence might be hindering his son's mental recovery. He hadn’t had the courage to ask him to leave, not when she saw the feelings expressed in Cas’ face. She had always suspected that something else was going on in the heart of the man who had been like a son to her. Everything seemed to confirm her suspicions.

She wondered, however, what Dean's reaction would be when he learned that.

*****

Sam and his wife, as if by divine intervention, had alleviated the situation a little when Madison had been discharged, and they too had settled in the Winchester household. Emily remained in the hospital, and although Madison spent most of her time there, with her, Mary had talked to Sam and he had been more present, acting as a mediator between Dean and Cas. Sam’s presence took the focus away from the discomfort a bit, as Dean poured out his pent-up energy, teasing his brother, as he did when they were kids.

Still, when he could, Castiel would leave the house, having a few more meetings with his mother, who had been thrilled to learn of Mary's interest in talking to her.

In one of these meetings, his mother asked him why he wasn’t married yet.

He was tempted to lie, to say that he didn’t think to commit himself yet, that he hadn’t found the right person, but he couldn’t resume a relationship with his mother by having lies as a foundation. Castiel told her, as candidly as he could in the circumstances, what his sexual orientation was. At that moment, that was enough.

She was incredulous at first, but then seemed to accept elegantly what she had been told. Castiel knew that Zachariah's church was frontally opposed to homosexuality and that it must be difficult for her to hear that. Maybe it was the maternal love that made her accept the news. And she seemed genuinely interested in coming back to his life, so it was a necessary step.

As they said goodbye, Castiel invited her to a reunion with Mary Winchester in two days' time, and she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. After a few moments looking deeply into his eyes, he said he was very proud of him and that she loved him.

Castiel had never felt so close to his mother before and hugged her again. Maybe someday he could tell her how happy he had been for a few days with the man he loved.

*****

Castiel came in through the back door and found Mary busy in the kitchen. With her two children, her daughter-in-law and Castiel at home she had dedicated herself to making all the dishes she knew they appreciated.

He greeted her with a kiss and confirmed his mother would come on Saturday afternoon for tea.

Mary’s face brightened and she thanked him with a smile. She recalled that it had been on a Saturday afternoon, more than two decades earlier, that Dean and Castiel had met and started their friendship.

Friendship that seemed distant at the moment.

Castiel excused himself and left, thinking of Dean. What was he doing?

When Castiel entered the living room, Dean raised his head from the newspaper he was reading. _The same frightened look as ever_ , thought the dark-haired man. He excused himself and went upstairs to the room where he had been isolating himself for the last few days. He couldn’t see Dean looking at him that way.

He thought he should set a deadline; he had to complete his studies, go home. Home... He had thought about sharing a home, wherever it was, with the man who had just looked at him as if he were a threat...

Sam had asked him to stay there for a few more days, hoping things would be normal again, but Castiel was beginning to doubt that Dean would remember the lost time.

Taking a book from the shelf, an old novel, he sat on the bed and leaned his back against the wall, trying to concentrate on reading, but he was too attentive to everything that happened in that house since his companion had returned to it.

He listened as Dean climbed the stairs, leaning on his mother, who was scolding him, saying he should rest more. He said he would sleep a little, but that he needed to take a shower first.

Castiel heard the door close and refused to think about Dean undressing. He dropped the book and went to the window, running his fingers through his hair in an anguished gesture.

When he least expected it, he heard a muffled sound, as if something had fallen in the next room.

Worried that Dean had fallen, he went out into the hall and knocked lightly on Dean’s door.

"Dean? Is it all right? "He asked.

"Um ... yeah ... all right ..."

Relieved, he turned and started back to his hiding place when Dean's door opened untimely.

"Cas!"

He turned and found Dean standing there, even more perplexed than he had been all those days.

"Yes, Dean? Is there any problem?"

"Would..." Dean cleared his throat, lowering his voice "would you come... come here... for a moment?"

Castiel started to walk toward the bedroom, cautiously. He didn’t know what to expect. Dean didn’t talk to him in the last few days.

As the door closed behind him, he suddenly found himself pushed against it, Dean's warm body holding him there as his mouth was drawn to Cas’ soft lips.

His eyes widened and he tried to pull away, but when Dean whispered his name the way he did when they were both alone, he totally gave in to the kiss he'd been wanting ever since he'd arrived.

His legs began to sag, causing him to slide until he was sitting on the floor, Dean kneeling between his thighs, their mouths touching all the time.

When they finally looked at each other, Dean was smiling, his free hand caressing Cas’ dark hair.

Castiel laughed and cried, uncertain. He wanted to believe that Dean remembered what happened, but how could he be sure?

"Dean... do you remember... having... visited me in Florence?"

"How could I forget the best days of my life, Cas?"

This affirmation brought more tears to his eyes.

"But how? I thought that..."

"I had a little help, I think... I don’t know who it was, but when I came in, there was a large, sketchbook on my pillow. When I opened it and saw what was inside... it was a shock! I took a step back and bumped into the chair... So... everything came back... I remembered everything ... _I remembered that I love you, Cas_ ” he said, coming closer for one more kiss.

They were still hugging on the floor when a knock on the door startled them.

Castiel got up quickly and helped Dean up too.

Out in the hallway, Mary called softly:

"Dean?"

Castiel involuntarily pulled away a little, but Dean pulled him close before opening the door.

"Is everything okay in here?" She asked, smiling.

Dean took Castiel's hand and kissed it, saying:

"Now everything is perfect."

Castiel was completely stunned, he didn’t know what to say.

"I see ... you found the sketchbook."

"Was it you? Thank you, Mom" Dean said, smiling and looking pleased at the man at his side.

Mary smiled at Castiel, who was pale. He could never imagine that she would see those pictures.

She winked at him and said:

"Don’t tire him too much, Castiel, you know he needs rest to recover ..."

Castiel felt his face burn at the implication, but that was definitely Mary’s way of demonstrating that she approved of their relationship. He smiled and answered, trying to appear more secure than he actually felt:

"No problem, Mrs. Winchester. He's in good hands. "

She smiled and left them alone again.

*****

Castiel had taken Mary's guidance literally when Dean began to try some more intimate touches.

They were in bed, but only because Dean needed some sleep. Cas was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep him quiet, but the hand that was not immobilized kept insisting on touching Castiel in places that made him want to moan.

"Dean... no!" He said, trying to sound harsh, but sounding a little desperate.

"That won’t tire me out... I even think it can be considered... therapeutic."

"Therapeutic ... I don’t see how..." he said, pulling Dean's hand away from his belt buckle for the third time in a few minutes.

"I just know ... I'm dying to get close to you again. I want to feel your naked body... your strong thighs around me... This can only do me good... "

Cas breathed audibly, getting up with great difficulty:

"Let's do it like this... You sleep a little and I promise to wake you up before dinner time..." and whispered in his ear what he would do.

Dean's eyes widened, his mouth opening into a smile.

"Oh, please do it right now, Cas! Please..."

"It's good to know that you also know how to beg, but I said I'll wake you up like that, Dean... Sleeping is an essential part of the plan."

Dean shook his head, capitulating at last. Castiel covered him with the quilt and ran his hand through Dean’s hair, tracing the bandage around his temple with his thumb. He was tempted to kiss him, but he knew it would take them to square one and Cas had to pull away while he was winning the battle.

Soon Dean was snoring softly, his face relaxed on the pillow. Castiel smiled and thought about what he might have done to deserve such a good fortune.

*****

Castiel felt that he needed to thank Dean's mother and apologize to her too. Making sure Dean was sound asleep, he left the room and went downstairs. He had to admit that the conversation that would come would be a bit embarrassing, but he felt compelled explain some things to her.

He found her in front of the TV, watching some program. She looked up and smiled when she saw him come in. She patted the couch beside her for Cas to sit there.

He didn’t know how to start. Mary, however, was not intimidated:

"I'm very happy for you two, Castiel."

"Thank you, Mrs. Winchester. I... want to apologize for not telling you before. I didn’t know how Dean would react, I couldn’t decide for him. "

"But he decided for you."

"Well... it's true. But I'm happy. It shows that he knows I have no intention of hiding from anyone what we have. "

"When Dean said he might go to Italy to visit you, I was afraid he might find you with someone else. It would have broken his heart. I always knew he felt something different for you from what he wanted me to believe. "

"Did you think that way about me too?"

She nodded.

"Even when you were teenagers... And when I saw you again, I was sure. Finding that sketchbook in Dean's bag only confirmed that you accepted how you feel for each other. I was immensely happy to know. "

Castiel blushed, remembering the last drawing. It was too explicit. But Mary didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

When she got up, more than an hour later, saying that she had to start dinner, Castiel thanked her again and went upstairs, ready to keep the promise he had made to his friend. No... he would fulfill the promise he had made _to the man with whom he would like to live the rest of his days_. That was much better, he thought.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean had turned around a little, but the cast on his left arm didn’t allow him to lie with his back to the door. Castiel came in and stood for a few minutes by the bed, just enjoying the beauty of the sleeping man.

He secretly also wanted to be able to express his desire as much as his partner, but he knew it to be impossible at the moment. Dean's body was covered with bruises, especially the torso, which was marked by the strap of his seat belt. It was as if he were still wearing it. The arms, shoulders and legs also had their share of marks that ranged from purple to yellow, according to their healing stage. It looked like a painter's palette, where colors had been blended randomly.

He lifted the quilt. Dean didn’t move. Cas hands touched Dean’s thighs covered by the gray fabric of his sweatpants. Cas slid them up and down, slowly and gently a few times, covering the area from knee to hip in delicate caresses. Dean was still, apparently fast asleep.

When his fingers found the elastic waistband and huddled beneath it, a smile appeared on the freckled face. He didn’t open his eyes content to just enjoy the gentle touches.

Castiel's breath choked, for he had never imagined doing anything similar in that bedroom. Reflecting, he had thought of it, but it was thoughts belonging more to the realm of fantasy than to reality, never really believing they could ever materialize.

Finding the underwear beneath Dean’s loose pants, he caressed the beautiful body that excited him so much.

Dean finally capitulated, giving a hoarse groan. His eyelids fluttered in anticipation of what was to come. When he felt the warmth and moisture of his lover's mouth around him, he finally opened his eyes to find the magnificent blue staring back at him as he devoted himself to keeping his promise.

*****

After Cas had helped Dean shower and change, they went downstairs to have dinner. Madison, who had come from the hospital and was in the kitchen, helping her mother-in-law, looked up from the cutlery she had in her hands, and smiled when she realized they entered the room hand in hand.

She greeted them normally and made no comment, as if she expected that. Castiel thought they had both been bad at hiding how they felt.

Making Dean sit at the table being set for the meal, he parted with a kiss on Dean’s damp hair. The sweetness of the gesture moved Mary, who put her arm around Castiel's waist and leaned her head against his shoulder as he came over to ask if he could also help.

The familiarity of the scene touched Dean deeply. He knew of the love his mother felt for his friend and realized that he had never been jealous of it, having long since concluded that it was a perfectly natural and well-deserved sentiment. They had always been a family.

*****

Sam came and immediately noticed the change between his brother and the one who had come from far away to see him. He showed how happy he was for them when he hugged them both at the same time, wrapping one in each of his arms.

"Take good care of him, Cas. He still needs to mature a bit, but I think he's almost ready to become an adult. "He said, laughing as he teased Dean.

Dean thought of answering, but given the happiness he felt, he gave up. He kissed Castiel on the cheek, who looked at him in surprise. He didn’t think he would be fond of public displays of affection. Castiel loved that very much.

When they walked to their room that night, Cas pushed the bed he used to occupy against Dean's. They lay down with Dean’s face on his chest. He gently stroked his hair. They had to talk about the future.

"How about your master's degree in Florence?"

"The University will schedule my presentation as soon as I get in touch with them. But I will only do this when you are fully recovered. "

"And… what are you plans?" Dean asked, a little anxious for the answer.

"I'm not sure, Dean. But I think one of us is going to have to move... "He said, the smile showing in the speech.

"I'll come to live in Italy with you, Cas. If you want me to. "

"I appreciate your detachment, but ... I don’t think it will be necessary... if I receive a positive response from the University of California. They have a very good Visual Arts program and I submitted an application to teach some classes. Even with my master's degree pending, I have a chance of getting a position... What would you think of that? "

Dean leaned to kiss him, but the injuries to his chest gave him a painful warning not to overdo it.

Cas, seeing him in pain, pushed him lightly against the mattress and captured her lips gently, then asked:

"I think this was a positive reaction to me coming back to the States, am I right?"

Dean nodded, pulling him into another kiss.

"My house is yours if you want," he said in a whisper against Cas’ rosy lips.

A shiver ran through Cas's body. It was what he wanted most. Sharing a life with Dean.

He kissed him again, passionately. Cas brushed his fingers gently over his face, tracing patterns in the freckles that had fascinated him since the beginning of their story.

*****

Saturday found them in great activity, because Mary wanted to prepare some elaborate dishes to serve her old friend.

When she arrived and the hostess received her at the door, smiling, she was surprised that Naomi offered her a hug. The gesture, conciliatory, touched Castiel’s heart, who gripped Dean's hand unconsciously. He was feeling a little tense because of the reunion.

The moment Naome noticed the presence of his son and his friend, in that posture of intimacy, she smiled. He looked at Mary and said:

 "Looks like our boys are more than friends now, Mary."

He walked toward them and kissed his son, offering Dean her hand.

"That part you didn’t tell me, Castiel. But I see you're happy, so... I'm glad for you. "

Dean was incredulous, for he knew the power of persuasion of the man with whom Naomi was married. Finally she should have realized the mistakes she had made.

The tea was a moment of reunion and joy, the four of them talking amiably until the bell rang again.

Mary got up and went to open the door. Her surprise could not be greater, for standing on the porch of the house, facing her, was Zacariah Adler.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Adler. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? "

When Naomi heard the name of her husband being pronounced, she got up and came to the hall.

"Zachariah? Why are you here? I told you I'd come and see Mary... "

"I'm sorry, but I can’t allow you to stay here, Naomi."

“You don’t have the right to tell me that. I beg you to leave, please. We'll talk later."

Adler's gaze fell on the two men who had come to support their mothers. Knowing he could be quite intransigent, they avoided touching his presence.

But Dean couldn’t help himself when he heard the unkind man saying in a tone of contempt:

"Ah, now I understand. Your _worthless son_ is back... "

He gripped Cas’ hand and took a step forward:

"Who are you calling worthless, sir?"

"Hmmm ... I see. Besides being worthless, he is a pervert. Come on, Naomi, I won’t let you stay one more second in the presence of these... filthy sinners! "

Castiel wanted to stop that hateful man, but he held Dean who seemed about to jump him.

"Dean ... no. He doesn’t deserve our attention. He's a horrible man" Cas whispered in his ear.

Naomi, who was momentarily speechless at her husband's offense to the boys, lifted her head and said:

"Zachariah, from now on, if you want to talk to me, it will be through my lawyer. Our marriage ends here. "

The full-bodied, gray-haired man looked ready to throw a fit. He flushed and opened his mouth to utter a few more scoldings when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder:

"Mr. Adler, I think you've already overstayed the hospitality of my family. I ask you to leave or I will have to call the police. "

He took a step back, glaring. When he was already on the lawn, out of reach of the tall young man who had intimidated him effortlessly, he continued to shout harsh words, offending his wife and son before entering his car and leaving.

Mary hugged her friend who looked mortified. She led Naomi to the couch, making her sit down as their worried sons surrounded them.

Castiel knelt down in front of his mother and took her hands. He didn’t know what to say.

"My son, forgive me." He finally found the courage to say. "I don’t know how I can undo all the evil I've done to you."

Sam pulled Dean by the sleeve into the kitchen. Mary apologized too and left the room so Cas and Naomi could talk.

*****

Naomi got in touch with a local lawyer through Sam, and her divorce was finalized after a few months.

Zachariah had made threats early in the process, but she, in possession of some evidence of illicit church negotiations had the upper hand in the game. She kept the house in which they had lived, but she planned to sell it, no longer bearing the idea of the memories built there and which had almost cost her the love of her son.

Castiel, realizing that she needed some time away, invited her to accompany him to Italy, where he would soon present his thesis. Dean felt sad about the separation, but he knew that the mother-son relationship could benefit from some time together. He took them to the airport in Los Angeles and this time he said goodbye to his boyfriend with a kiss. Then he whispered in Cas’ ear:

"Come back soon, Cas. Our house will be ready. I love you. Never forget that. Never."

Castiel was thrilled to hear his own words at their farewell in London repeated by Dean. How would he know then that the Dean would really forget him for a while?

It wasn’t going to happen again, he was sure.

He would never be able to forget Dean.


	19. Chapter 19

Dean was taking the last pile of books from the boxes that arrived from Florence two days earlier. Castiel was separating and distributing them on the shelves that Dean bought for the living room. Dean wanted a cozier home and he knew that Castiel's belongings would make a difference, adding his personal touch to their home.

In the corner of the room was a large box, inside which Castiel had told him some of the canvases that had been stored in his atelier in Florence. When Dean started opening it he heard an objection from Cas.

Turning, Dean saw that Cas placed the volumes in his hands on the coffee table and was coming toward him.

"These canvasses are delicate, Dean, let me help you."

They opened the lid, removing the nails that fixed it. Dean was impressed by the large quantity as Castiel leaned down to take two of them. He handed them to Dean and said to prop them to the back of the sofa and to the wall.

Dean followed Cas’ instructions and the room began to look like an art gallery, so many were the paintings scattered around.

Soon there was only one canvas left in the container, the painted surface wrapped in white fabric, which Castiel didn’t immediately remove. He stood there for a second, looking at it and smiling. As Dean approached, he took him in his arms and said:

"The last one is a gift. For you. I painted it on the days I spent in Italy with my mother. "

Dean reached out and pulled out the large painting. It was the largest of them all.

When Cas unveiled it, Dean stared at the surface for a few moments, not knowing what to say.

At first he thought it was an abstract work, large areas of color and others covered in dark paint. Slowly he began to realize that it depicted outer space, like those images captured by modern telescopes. The darkened areas, in fact, were dotted with small dots representing the stars. On several planes there were nebulae, the clouds of gases depicted in bright colors and delicate brushstrokes.

It was beautiful!

He kissed Castiel, excited. The other, however, took the painting from his hands and placed it against a vase on the dining room table in the adjoining room. Then he directed Dean to look at the painting again.

Dean's mouth dropped open and there was a surprised sound. From that distance he could discern something he hadn’t been able to see up close. The celestial bodies depicted in the picture took on an entirely different configuration when looked at by an observer who was a few paces.

Dean first noticed an eye, suggested in a mass of greenish gasses. Below, the shape of fleshy lips was outlined in another nebula. There was a face represented there, hidden among the stars. His own!

To complete the image, the stars represented the myriad of freckles that covered his face. Dean smiled, thinking that Castiel could not forget them, not even for a second.

Dean hugged him, pulling him into a kiss.

"Thank you, Cas. This is the best gift ever. "

"That's how I see you, Dean. Your presence in my life is immense, eternal... heavenly. "

Dean didn’t know how to respond to such a deep statement, so he let the body speak for him, pouring out all his love and gratitude into sweet touches.

An hour later, both lay naked on the couch, while books and canvasses were still scattered about the room. Castiel got up under vehement protests from Dean.

He skirted the boxes, pushed aside the objects blocking his access, and took one of the CDs inside.

Dean glimpsed the familiar white cover in which there was a man in the hat, with the angels and the rooster. Castiel turned on the stereo and chose one of the tracks, then returned to his companion's warm arms as the piano chords took over, followed by the raspy yet sweet voice of the singer:

 _"Un altro sole, quando viene sera,_  (Another sun, when night falls)  
_Sta colorando l'anima mia,_  (It’s coloring my soul)  
_Potrebbe essere di chi spera_  (She should belong to who waits for her)  
_Ma nel mio cuore è solo mia!_  (But in my heart she’s mine)  
_E mi fa piangere e sospirare_ _(She makes me cry and sigh)_

 _Così celeste_ _, she's my_  (Heavenly, she’s my babe)  
_E mi fa ridere e bestemmiare_  (She makes me laugh and curse)  
_E brucia il fuoco, she's my !_  (And the fire burns, she’s my babe)

 _Gli occhi si allagano, e la ninfea_  (Tears fill my eyes and the water lilly)  
_Galleggia in fiore, che maggio sia_  (Floats on flowers, May it be)  
_E per amarti meglio, amore mio_  (And for loving you better, my lover)  
_Figliamo rose, lo voglio anch'io._  (We raise roses, I want them also)  
_Lei mi fa vivere e accende il giorno_  (She makes me live and brightens my day)  
_Così celeste, she's my_  (Heavenly, she’s my babe)  
_Come un pianeta che mi gira intorno_  (Like a planet which revolves around me)  
_E brucia il fuoco, she's my !_  (And the fire burns, she’s my babe)  
_Uh uh uh uh lei lo fa, come_  (Uh uh uh uh she makes, just like)  
_Avesse sete_  (She was thirsty)  
_Uh uh uh uh sulla mia pelle_  (Uh uh uh uh under my skin)  
_Lieve come neve_  (Light as snow)  
_E mi fa piangere e sospirare_  (She makes me cry and sigh)  
_Così celeste, she's my_  (Heavenly, she’s my babe)  
_E mi fa ridere e bestemmiare_  (She makes me laugh and curse)  
_E brucia il fuoco, she's my_    (And the fire burns, she’s my babe)  
_Lei mi fa vivere e accende il giorno_  (She makes me live and brightens my day)  
_Così celeste, she's my_  (Heavenly, she’s my babe)  
_Come un pianeta che mi gira intorno_  (Like a planet which revolves around me)  
_E brucia il fuoco, she's my_  (And the fire burns, she’s my babe)  
_Potrebbe essere, di chi spera_  (She should belong to who waits for her)  
_Ma nel mio cuore... Mia."_  (But in my heart… mine.)

 

Dean wasn’t able to understand all the words, but when Castiel repeated the last of them, looking into his eyes that way he used to, Dean had no doubt about its meaning:

_“Mio.”_


End file.
